Raising Amy
by Aini NuFire
Summary: Sequel to "Burn It Down" - A collection of fluffy timestamps featuring Team Free Will with Cas's daughter. Latest: Ch. 45 "Faith Hope Love Repeat" - Highlights from the collection set to this song. COMPLETE
1. Father's Day (Age 6-7)

**A/N: Hm, I seem to be neck deep in kid fics at the moment, LOL. But one is happy while the other is…obviously not. And I know this topic is belated, but I really wanted to do a Father's Day for Cas. ^_^ Which seemed like a good place to kick off this series.**

 **I will take requests, but I'm gonna be sticking to Amala being 6-7ish, just because that seems the best age for maximum cuteness.**

 **Standard disclaimer that I don't own the guys. Also, usually I am very meticulous with details and avoiding inconsistencies, but that requires lots of planning in advance, and since these are just meant to be fluffy interludes, we're gonna have to ignore any logistical issues that might come up. Thanks. ;)**

 **Thank you to 29Pieces for beta reading! (And for the craft idea.) ^_^**

* * *

"Father's Day"

Dean wedged his knife up into his Baby's underside to cut free the plastic bag wrapped around the chassis. Damn litter bugs on the highway. Ugh, and it was _sticky_ with some gunk or other. He'd have to grab a wet rag and cleaner to wipe the frame down and make sure nothing corrosive was left behind.

Light footsteps pattered across the concrete floor of the garage, and a moment later a pair of purple sneakers appeared at the edge of the Impala. "Uncle Dean, are you busy?"

Dean ripped the last of the plastic off and shimmied out from under the Impala. A three-foot-ten rugrat with honey-brown eyes and dark chocolate hair was gazing at him upside down. "Hey, kiddo," he said, pushing himself up and righting his orientation. "What's up?"

"I need help with something."

Dean wadded the plastic up and tossed it in the nearby trashcan. He scrunched his face up at the residue he hadn't managed to avoid getting on his fingers, so he stood and went to the sink to wash it off. "Oh yeah? With what?"

Amy bounded after him. "I want to make Daddy something for Father's Day. For his car."

"For his car?" Dean repeated, drying his hands on a rag as he turned to give his niece his full attention.

"Yeah, so when he goes away on jobs, he'll have something to remind him to think of me."

Dean smiled. "Your dad's always thinking of you, but that's a great idea."

Even though Cas had gotten his wings back a while ago, he hadn't given up driving. Dean had thought he would; the angel had once complained that travel by car was slow and confining. Granted, that had been way back during the Apocalypse. Cas wasn't the same angel he'd been then.

So even with his wings restored, Cas still loved to drive places, and he still loved that piece of crap Continental.

"What do you want to make?" Dean asked.

Amy poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "I dunno. You know everything about cars."

Dean's lips quirked. "Well, if you want your dad to think of you whenever he sees it, you can make just about anything that will sit on the dash."

Amy's brow furrowed, and she tilted her head in that thoughtful moue she'd inherited from her father.

"Why don't you think about it a little more," Dean suggested.

"Mhm, okay," she said, somewhat dejectedly, and turned to go back into the bunker.

Dean got another wet rag and then lay down on the creeper again to roll under the Impala and clean any sticky molecules off the undercarriage. After that, he popped the trunk and went about restocking the rock salt bags and rounds they'd used on their last hunt. Once everything was in order, he headed inside.

He found Amy and Sam in the study area, Amy sitting on Sam's lap as they both looked at something on his laptop.

"Uncle Dean!" she exclaimed. "I know what I want to make."

Dean arched a brow. "Oh yeah?"

Sam flashed him an eager smile, and turned his computer around so Dean could see the screen. On it there was a picture of a handprint mold, painted a bright color and attached to a key ring.

"Yeah, you could make that for your dad's keys," Dean said.

"Actually," Sam put in, "if we did a life size cast, it could hang on the Continental's rearview mirror, since Amala said she wanted it for the car."

"Yeah!" she piped up. "Can we do that?"

Dean thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure. But what do you want to make the mold with? It can't be plaster; that'd be too heavy."

"Polymer clay," Sam replied. "That's what this is made of."

"Where did you even find that?" Dean asked dubiously.

Sam snorted. "It's called Pinterest. There's all these boards with crafts and projects you can follow—"

Dean made the cutting off motion with his hand. "Okay, stop. I'm not following Martha Stewart."

"It's not- never mind." Sam rolled his eyes. "So we need some clay and paint."

"And glitter," Amy said.

"And glitter," Sam repeated seriously, trying to suppress a grin.

"Yeah, alright," Dean said. "Didn't Charlie leave a bin of that kind of stuff lying around somewhere?" She'd certainly brought a ton of craftsy crap back when Amy was a baby so Charlie and Ryn could start scrapbooking.

Sam nudged Amy to hop off his lap so he could stand. "I think it's in one of these cabinets." He went down one of the short bookcase aisles and opened the cupboard against the wall. Dean followed and peered over his brother's shoulder as Sam sifted through a bunch of files.

"Not that one," he said, getting up and moving around to the next. There he found the plastic tub with the arts and crafts. Even a cursory glance showed they probably had everything they'd need, luckily.

"Okay, here's some clay." Sam pulled out a large plastic ziploc bag full of various colored packages of polymer clay. "What color do you want for your handprint?"

"Purple."

Dean shook his head; he could have guessed that.

"Do you want to paint it too, or just stick with the glitter?" he asked.

"We'll need the paint to make the glitter stick," Sam said.

Oh, right, that made sense.

"Okay," Sam went on, "we have blue paint, pink, more purple, green—"

"Blue," Amy said. "Is there silver glitter?"

"There is." Sam picked up a container of the stuff and set it on top of the bookcase. "That it?"

"Yup!"

Dean took the package of purple clay. "Okay, come here and let's get a cast of your hand."

He carried the stuff back to the study table and mashed the clump into something flatter. Amy climbed onto a chair so she had the leverage, and when it was ready, Dean helped press her hand into the clay, pinching the material up around her fingers so there'd be ridges around the outline. Then he took out his knife to trim away the excess edges. Once the shape was as desired, he helped her extricate her hand. Sam reminded him to poke out a hole they could stick twine through so it would hang on the rearview mirror.

"Alright," Dean hummed, picking up the package to read the back. "So we have to bake it to make it set." That was easy.

It didn't take too long, either, since it wasn't that thick. After it cooled, Dean then supervised Amy adding the finishing touches with the paint. Sam had gone off to make sure Cas was plenty preoccupied in the archives so as not to walk in on them.

She painted the inside dip with the blue paint, leaving the ridges and back with the clay's natural purple. Then she dusted it with glitter—and the table and floor. Some of it got on Dean's boots, but he was used to that kind of thing by now.

Amy pursed her mouth as she surveyed the finished product. It looked pretty nice.

"Your dad's gonna love it," Dean said.

"I think it needs something more," she replied.

Dean frowned, but then he was struck with an idea. He'd blame Charlie's influence for it later, but at the moment, he figured it was the answer they needed. "Hang on, I think I have just the thing."

He went to the alcove in the library that doubled as their family room, and got a small chest off one of the top shelves. He and Sam kept several things inside it, things that were somewhat sentimental—if the Winchesters were the type—but also significant just by their nature. Like angel feathers they'd found in the backseat of the Impala during the Apocalypse. And, more recently, small black feathers that had the same indigo streaks as said angel's feathers, but also rivulets of rich dark plum and mulberry.

Dean remembered the first time he and Sam had started finding them around the bunker. They'd both freaked, worried Amala was sick or something, but it turned out she was just going through some growth spurts and "molting," which Cas and Ryn assured them was perfectly normal. Dean and Sam had saved the feathers anyway, just because.

Now, he carefully looked through their collection until he found a near perfect feather with velvety down and iridescent veins of those vivid colors. Dean took it out and then shut the lid and placed the chest back on the shelf. He brought the feather over to Amy.

"Here. Now not only was this made by you, but it's got a bit of you in it."

Amy burst into a beaming grin, and Dean decided he wouldn't actually mind taking tips from Martha Stewart in the future.

He just wouldn't tell Sam.

With a little glue, they set the feather across the palm of the cast hand shape, its shades matching perfectly with the clay and paint. All that was left was something to loop through the hole so they could hang it, and Dean went back out to the garage for some fishing line.

"Want me to hide it until Father's Day?" he asked once the gift was complete.

Amy nodded, then threw her arms around his waist. "Thank you, Uncle Dean!"

He smiled. "You're welcome. Don't forget to thank Sam, too."

She grinned and turned to run off. Dean just shook his head and tucked the ornament safely in his tool box for later.

When Father's Day rolled around that weekend, Dean had to track Cas down in the archives. According to Sam and Ryn, he was really into whatever objects he'd recently unearthed in the Men of Letters' collection.

"Hey, Cas," Dean called when he entered the storage room. "Can you come up to the garage for a minute?"

"Why?" the angel asked, not even looking up from the block of engraved rock that was captivating his attention.

"I need to talk to you about something with your car."

Cas's already furrowed brow tightened further and he briefly glanced over. "What's wrong with it? It was running fine when I drove it last."

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course Cas couldn't take a hint, and probably didn't even remember what today was. "I need to show you."

"I'm in the middle of cataloguing some very interesting items…"

"Unless that's a Word of God, it can wait."

Cas sighed, but set the slab of rock down. "Alright," he said, not without a trace of disgruntlement.

Dean rolled his eyes again, and ushered his friend through the bunker and out to the stairs. Cas looked completely put-out the entire way, until they walked into the garage and found Sam, Ryn, and Amy waiting for them.

The angel pulled up short. "What's going on?"

Amy ran up to hug him. "Happy Father's Day, Daddy!"

Cas blinked at her for a moment. "Oh. Is that today?"

" _Yeah_ ," Dean muttered in his friend's ear.

Cas dropped an arm around his daughter lovingly. "Thank you."

Amy grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward the Continental. "I made you something."

"You did? What is it?"

"Come see." Amy dragged him over to the driver's side where she then yanked open the heavy door.

"Amala, what are you…"

"See, right there." She pointed up toward the rearview mirror where they'd already hung the hand-made ornament.

Cas's brows pinched ever so slightly with intrigue as he slid in behind the wheel to get a look. Dean watched that confusion slowly turn to wonder the moment he knew Cas recognized the feather, and made the connection with the size of the hand mold.

"Now when you go away for work, you'll have a part of me to keep you company on the road."

The corners of Cas's mouth curved upward. "It's beautiful." He climbed back out of the car and scooped Amy up into his arms. "Thank you. It's absolutely perfect."

She beamed at him.

Ryn stepped up and placed a soft kiss on Cas's cheek. "I know you still doubt it, but you are the best father in the world, and we all want to keep reminding you of it."

Cas's cheeks took on a pink flush, even as he gave her a wry look.

"I agree," Amy declared.

Dean and Sam both chuckled.

Cas swept his gaze over each of them, eyes bright with touched emotion. "You know, I do have reason to celebrate—I'm the _luckiest_ father in the world." He smiled widely at Amy and planted a kiss to the side of her head.

Dean couldn't stop grinning, himself.

He was pretty damn lucky, too.


	2. Bedtime Story

**A/N: Thank you Guest for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the cuteness. ^_^  
I've got a few of these lined up now, and quite a few requests, too. And since some of them are a little (lot) shorter than my usual one shots, I've decided to post two at a time on occasion. So today we're getting #2 and #3 updated. Enjoy the fluff!**

* * *

"Bedtime Story"

Castiel drew the bedcovers back for Amala to hop underneath so he could tuck her in.

"Will you tell me a story?" she asked as she wiggled down against the soft mattress and pillows.

Castiel smoothed out the purple coverlet and then sat on the edge of the bed. "What kind of story?"

"How about when Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean saved the world."

"Which time?" Ryn said with a smirk from where she was tidying up the desk's papers and crayons.

Castiel's lips twitched. "Alright. Once upon a time, many years ago, there were two brothers. They were very special brothers, chosen ones in a great conflict that would decide the fate of the world. But the problem was that each side in the great war chose one brother for themselves, and wanted them to fight each other. The Righteous Man, Heaven's chosen, didn't believe he was worthy. The Boy with the Demon Blood had a heart too pure and good to side with Hell."

"What did they do?"

Castiel had to refrain from shaking his head in amusement; Amala had heard the story before, yet she always got caught up in the telling as though it were the first time.

"Well, they decided that they would change destiny. That neither Heaven nor Hell had the right to determine the fate of the world and the humans who lived in it. Armies of angels and demons constantly pursued them, until Sam and Dean ended up face to face with the Devil himself. The Devil tried to take Sam, but the brothers' love gave them the strength to stand fast. Sam fought back Lucifer and cast him into the Cage, stopping the Apocalypse and saving the world."

That was the simplified version, anyway, and the one that was G-rated.

Amala smiled. "I like that story."

Castiel's expression softened. "Me too."

"You left out one of the most important characters," a new voice spoke up from behind.

Castiel half turned to find Dean standing in the doorway and leaning against the frame.

"Your dad was there, too."

"I wasn't there for very long, at the end," Castiel hurried to point out. "And I didn't do much."

Dean pushed away from the doorjamb and came the rest of the way into the room, passing Ryn so he could stand next to Amala's bed. "So the Righteous Man, he had doubts. He was afraid. But the angel Castiel had faith in him. And when the Righteous Man asked for help standing against the forces of Heaven, that angel chose to fall, because he loved humanity. And the Demon Boy King, he worried that he wasn't strong enough. But then an angel became his friend, and he started to believe that maybe there was something good in him after all, if something as good as an angel could see it."

Castiel opened his mouth to interrupt, but Ryn shot him a shushing look over Dean's shoulder. He bit his tongue and tried not to fidget in discomfort.

Amala's expression was rapt with attention.

"And that day, when Sam and Dean went to face Lucifer," Dean went on. "The angel Castiel was right there with them."

Castiel tensed. He had intentionally left himself out of the story so as not to have to explain to his daughter that he'd been exploded into a million pieces.

"Did he fight the Devil too?" Amala asked earnestly.

"He flambéed the archangel Michael, who was a real d—"

"Bad guy," Ryn sharply interjected.

Dean's face flushed pink. "Bad guy," he quickly fixed.

"What's 'flambéed'?" Amala asked.

"You can look it up in the dictionary tomorrow," Ryn said, and squeezed past Dean to give the girl a kiss on her forehead. "Now, time to sleep."

Odds were Amala wouldn't remember the word in the morning, which was just as well. Castiel thought she was still too young to know about some of the more…realistic details, of hunting and battles.

Amala sighed, but snuggled underneath the covers. "So Daddy's a hero, too," she said.

"Yep," Dean said with a proud smile. "Me and Sam couldn't have saved the world without him."

Castiel rolled his eyes, but was careful to school his expression when he turned to Amala to kiss her goodnight. Then he flicked off the lamp and stood to make his way to the door. He paused on the threshold and cast one last lingering look as Amala closed her eyes; she always looked so precious and peaceful in sleep.

Castiel switched the main light off and closed the door to just a crack.

"You didn't have to tell her all that, Dean," he said quietly once they were out in the hall.

"Why not? Every little girl thinks her dad is a superhero, and you actually are one."

"There's so much more to the story…" A lot he was ashamed of, and he was terrified of the day Amala might learn it all.

Dean stepped into his path to give him a serious look. "Those were the important parts."

Ryn slipped her hand into his. "She's still young, Cas. When she gets older and learns that the world isn't black and white, she'll learn mercy and compassion along with it. That's how it works."

Castiel sighed; Ryn was always good at guessing what he was thinking.

"I'd prefer if she stayed this age forever," he mumbled.

Ryn smiled. "Every parent wants that. Especially when their kids become teenagers."

"Oh lord," Dean choked. "I'm with Cas on this one."

She smirked. "Don't worry, you'll both always be heroes in her eyes."

With that, she extricated her hand from Castiel's and headed down the hallway.

Dean shook his head. "I think I need a beer."

Castiel snorted. "Me too."

Dean grinned at him, and started to lead the way.

"And, Dean—thank you."

The Winchester flashed him a beaming smile. "Always."


	3. Can I Keep It

**A/N: Second update for today, along with Ch. 2.**

* * *

"'Can I Keep It?'"

Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, scrunching his nose up. "Dude, do you smell something?"

Sam glanced up from his laptop across the study table. "Don't try to blame me for the burrito you ate at lunch."

Dean scowled. "I'm not talking about me."

"Yeah, sure."

Sam went back to whatever he was researching, but Dean continued to rove his gaze back and forth, sniffing intently. There was definitely a whiff of something fetid in the bunker. He got up and started moving around, trying to pinpoint it. The pungent odor seemed to be stronger near the bookcases. He knew some of these old tomes smelled, but this was extreme.

Dean finally caught sight of something small and brown on the floor in the corner, and crouched down to examine it. "Sam," he called. "Come here."

There was a scuff of a chair leg and Sam's footsteps padding over. "What?"

"Is that…?"

Sam's shadow fell across him as his gigantor brother leaned over. "Looks like animal droppings." He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe we have a rodent running around."

Oh, hell no.

Dean stood up and went to the locked cabinet to get his gun.

Sam quirked a brow at him. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm gonna hunt this thing down."

Sam crossed his arms, lips twitching. "Dean, it's an animal, not a werewolf."

"It ain't moving in here and then inviting all its friends." He checked the magazine for ammo.

Sam just shook his head as though he found this funny. "There are traps we can lay, you know. Which would probably work a lot better than you skulking around trying to shoot it."

Dean arched a brow. "Traps, that's good. We should set some food out." He turned to head for the kitchen.

"And then what, you sit in the dark for hours waiting for it?" Sam asked, following behind.

"If I have to."

They turned the corridor toward the kitchen just as Amy came running out of it so fast that she crashed right into them. Dean caught her with one arm.

"Whoa there, kiddo—"

"Sorry!" she exclaimed. "Bye!"

Dean frowned as she ducked under them to continue her mad dash down the hall, a whole block of cheese in her hands. "Wait, where are you going with that?"

"I'm hungry!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing.

Dean exchanged a dubious look with Sam.

Sam was also frowning after her. "What do you think that's about?"

Dean shrugged. "Kid's hungry. Maybe she's going through a growth spurt. Now come on. We've got bigger issues."

His brother rolled his eyes, but followed him into the kitchen. "You should probably set out some fruits and vegetables."

"Rabbit food, right," Dean muttered. "Maybe it is a rabbit."

"If it is, are you really gonna shoot it?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean grumbled under his breath as he gathered up some of Sam's healthy crap. "Maybe not." He put some lettuce and a tomato on a plate. "Okay, fine, we can rig up a trap."

They headed back out to the study area, slowing as they passed the library turned den where Amy was on the floor and peering under one of the upholstered chairs, the wedge of cheese still in hand.

"Amala, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

She jerked upright, eyes wide. "I dropped a piece. But I found it." She hesitated for a split second, then scampered to her feet and darted off toward the hallway.

Sam quirked his brow. "She's acting…weird."

"She's Cas's daughter," Dean replied with a small snort.

Sam huffed, but resumed helping him figure out where they should set up the trap. Sam wanted to buy a cage with a trigger, but Dean didn't want to waste time with that. They could go old-school with a box and length of string.

"Found some more droppings," Sam said in the war room. "Looks more fresh, too."

Dean came in to look at the scat, then roved his gaze around the map table and various computer consoles along the wall.

"Maybe if we open the door, it'll try to get out on its own," Sam suggested.

"And risk letting more in?" Dean rejoined. "Nuh-uh." He set the plate of food down on the floor under the map table, giving a false sense of shelter for when the critter came out to eat.

He was just setting up the cardboard box they'd grabbed from the library when Dean heard a soft scritching sound. He grabbed Sam's arm, signaling him to freeze, and listened.

He heard it again, and Dean turned stealthily toward the large control systems against the wall. So the interloper was in the war room with them.

Dean gestured for Sam to take right while he took left, and then started creeping toward the wall. Just where was the little bugger, exactly?

Dean inched around and spotted a cranny between the wall and the computer consoles. A flash of yellow eyes glinted from the back corner. Dean stilled. _Gotcha_.

He couldn't see what it was, though, just that it had to be small to fit in that tight space. "Sam, get a long stick or something."

Sam jogged out of the room, and a few minutes later came back with a broom and two oven mitts. He tossed the kitchen gloves to Dean. "You don't need to get scratched up."

Good point. He put them on, then squatted down just in front of the opening, ready to grab the creature when Sam managed to poke it into trying to escape.

Sam had to climb on top of the console to get the broom stick down behind it, and then he started pushing and tapping it, the wood rapping against the concrete wall. Yellow eyes flashed rapidly, and then the creature finally bolted forward. Dean grabbed for it, but the oven mitts meant he couldn't use his fingers to dig in, and the wily thing slipped through his grasp.

Dean grunted as he twisted around and fell onto his side, trying to keep a hold of it. He saw a blur of orange bolting across the floor, and then Amy swooped in to scoop the creature up in her arms.

Dean quickly launched to his feet to snatch it away before it could hurt her, but his niece backpedaled, clutching the tiny fox to her chest.

"Don't hurt him!" she cried.

Dean pulled up short. The fox was panting so hard, it didn't look like it had the energy to fight her, and was hanging limply in her grip. He exchanged a bewildered look with Sam. What the…

Footsteps announced Cas and Ryn coming through the library and stopping in the archway, both of them casting incredulous looks at the three of them. Dean realized he was still wearing the oven mitts, and tore them off.

"Um, what's going on?" Cas asked.

Amy turned to her dad, lifting the baby fox slightly. "Can I keep him?"

Dean's jaw slackened. "Wait, what?"

"I found him in the woods. His leg was hurt, so I healed it, and then I brought him home."

"Wait," Sam said, "you brought it into the bunker?"

Dean blinked. Well, at least they didn't have to worry about a hole somewhere for more rodents to get through.

"Is that why you didn't want me in your room earlier?" Ryn asked.

Amy grimaced sheepishly. "So can I keep him?"

Cas gave her a regretful look. "Amala, he's not a pet."

"But I can take care of him. He's still a baby."

"He belongs in the woods outside."

"But what if he gets hurt again? Or leaves and never comes back? Please can't I just keep him?" Her bottom lip quivered and she lifted her chin just enough to give them the puppy eyes.

Dean almost— _almost_ —wanted to say yes. But he was not about to let some mangy fox run wild around the bunker, pooping and peeing everywhere. He was gonna have a hell of enough time finding all the places that already needed to be cleaned up.

Cas slowly descended the steps and moved toward Amy, then crouched down in front of her. At least the angel wasn't scaring the animal.

"I'm sure his family misses him," Cas said gently. "If you were lost, I would be so worried and sad until you came home."

Amy pursed her mouth unhappily.

"You did a good thing, saving him," Cas went on. "And you can do another good thing by letting him back into the wild, where he belongs."

Amy looked down at the tiny fox in her arms.

Cas put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on. Let's go find his family."

With a little more coaxing, he guided Amy up the stairs with the baby fox and outside. Dean didn't know how Cas expected to find mommy fox, but if anyone could, it was probably an angel.

He glanced around at the mess he and Sam had made—chairs knocked over, the plate of food spilled across the floor, and the cardboard box smashed on one side from Dean accidentally kicking it.

Ryn's lips twitched, and she moved forward to start help cleaning up.

"Good thing you didn't try to shoot it," Sam grumbled.

Dean huffed. Yeah.

* * *

It wasn't difficult for Castiel to locate the fox's den, as it was only a little ways into the wooded area outside the bunker. He could sense four tiny heartbeats pounding erratically at his and Amala's approach, matching the fifth in his daughter's arms. But his and Amala's grace signatures were keeping the small fox docile.

Castiel drew Amala to a stop a few yards from the little burrow. Kneeling down next to her, he pointed out the shaded hollow. "See, there's his home."

Amala squeezed the baby fox tighter, and Castiel quickly put a gentle hand on her arm to keep her from choking the poor thing.

"I'll miss you," she said into its fur. Then she slowly bent down and set the fox on the ground.

It ducked low, tail tucked between its legs as it cast a frantic look around. But then its ears perked up, and its attention snapped to the burrow where the head of a larger fox suddenly poked out. It made a little yip, and its lost young one scampered across the grass and into the den.

Castiel reached up to rub Amala's back. "You did the right thing."

She heaved a despondent sigh. "I thought the right thing was supposed to make you feel good."

He gave her a sad smile. "Not always. Sometimes doing the right thing takes courage. And sacrifice."

Amala turned and leaned into him, and Castiel brought his arms up to enfold her in a hug.

"Now," he said, "shall we go inspect what's become of your room before your mother sees it?"

Amala scrunched her nose up. "Um, yes please."

Castiel tried to hold back an amused grin. "Alright." He lifted her up into his arms and turned to head back to the bunker. Where they belonged.


	4. Flying Lessons

**A/N: So it seems that posting two chapters in the same day doesn't work so well because several people missed that there was a chapter 2 and went straight to 3. So I'll go back to posting just one at a time. My one shot queue is a little low right now, anyway, as I've been completely absorbed in the AU I'm currently writing, which I can't wait to start sharing this Friday. Anyway, on to today's fluff!**

 **And remember when I said to ignore logistical issues? There's no reason for wings to be manifested here, but let's just go with it. #winglove**

* * *

"Flying Lessons"

Castiel and Ryn led Amala out into a wide field behind the bunker, their daughter a bouncing ball of excited energy that no amount of coaxing could get to calm down.

"Amala, hold still," Ryn lightly chided when they'd stopped in the middle of the pasture.

She spun around and clacked her shoes together, even though the rest of her was still practically vibrating. "Now what?"

Castiel knelt down on one knee in front of her, placing a hand high on her shoulder near the space where the ethereal would meet physical. "Close your eyes and concentrate on feeling your wings."

Amala quickly obeyed. Yet after a moment, she said, "I don't feel anything."

That wasn't surprising, given she hadn't had practice accessing that part of her essence. Which was the first step in today's lesson.

"They resonate at a specific frequency, like music," Castiel explained. His daughter's was a unique fusion of cool crystal chimes and the crackling susurration of fire. "Here, feel mine?"

Castiel extended his own wings, still incorporeal, but let the thrum of their energy ripple down through his physical form to where he was touching Amala's shoulder. She canted her head, keeping her eyes closed.

"I hear that!"

"Good. Now, listen for that same chord inside you."

Amala's face scrunched up with intense concentration. "I…think I hear it. It's not as strong."

Castiel smiled. "You're still growing. Now, you should also hear a whisper of flames, in harmony."

He waited a few moments for Amala to nod that she heard that, too.

"Can you sense the energy resonating at a higher frequency, like it's just beyond a thin, transparent veil?" Castiel asked.

Amala's brow pinched. "Mm, yes."

"Okay. Now, pay attention to my wings shifting down to another frequency, and follow."

With that, Castiel slowly began to draw his wings out of the ethereal plane and into the physical one. As the wavelength changed, so did the manifestation of his wings, morphing from bands of celestial energy to solid flesh and velvety plumage. Obsidian feathers streaked with iridescent indigo and jade rippled into view, great wingspans arching out behind him.

Castiel watched the air behind Amala bend and waffle as well as equally jet-black feathers manifested. The small wings stretched at their first release from incorporeal confinement, sunlight glinting off rivulets of dark plum and mulberry.

Amala tilted at the change in weight, but Castiel kept a firm grip on her shoulder. She craned her neck around to see, and broke into a beaming grin.

"I did it!"

Castiel smiled. "Yes you did. Good job."

Ryn walked around behind Amala and leaned over to inspect her coat. "How's it feel? Not too tight?"

Amala arched her wings up and then folded them down, testing their range of movement with the slits Ryn had sewn into her clothes specifically for these flying lessons. "It feels fine."

Ryn straightened and stepped back. "Good. You two have fun, now."

"You're not coming?" Amala asked.

"Not this time," Ryn replied. She'd have to transform into a phoenix to regain her wings, and they wouldn't carry her through the ether like Castiel's and Amala's.

Castiel finally stood up and took his daughter's hand. "Hold on tight," he instructed.

"You won't let go?" she asked with a flash of fear.

"I promise."

He gave a tremendous flap of his wings and leaped into the ether. At first, Amala's wings fluttered frantically in the sudden vacuum of space and lack of ground beneath her feet. Castiel simply kept his solid grip on her hand and let her gradually find her rhythm between bursts of momentum and gliding on the currents. Her smaller wings had to exert more effort than his own, and after a few moments, he guided them out of the celestial currents to alight on a mountainside somewhere in Iceland.

Amala stumbled as her wings flittered nervously again, but they quickly snapped taut to restore her balance. When she lifted her head, her mouth dropped open with an audible gasp at the vista spread out before them—white-capped mountains and a sea of milky clouds drifting lazily to conceal the ground far below. Sunlight gleamed like diamonds on the snow.

"It's so pretty!"

Castiel couldn't help but grin; he may have had issues with Chuck, but he was glad he could share his father's wondrous works of creation with his daughter.

She inched forward toward the edge of the cliff, and Castiel tightened his hold on her hand, just in case. Amala didn't seem afraid at all, too wrapped up in wonder. He did notice her cheeks turning pink in the nippy air, and he folded his wings around the front enough to create a partial shield against the buffeting mountain chill.

"We should head back," he said after a few more moments.

"Oh, can't we stay longer?" Amala pleaded.

"You won't be able to fly if your wings freeze," he pointed out. "We can come back another time, though."

She sighed, but the prospect of flying again seemed to entice her away from the view.

"Ready?" Castiel asked.

She nodded, and Castiel stepped off the ledge.

The wind rushed up around them as he tucked his wings in for the dive. They plummeted through the fleecy clouds before Castiel slipped into the ether. The momentum carried them down and up again, and when they started to slow, Castiel spread his wings to catch a gust and hover, squeezing Amala's hand to indicate she do the same. Her small wings flapped awkwardly a couple of times before she found her center, and then the two of them were simply floating amidst the opalescent shimmers of the ethereal plane.

"Spread your wings like that when we land," Castiel instructed. "It will give you a buffer of slowing your momentum to make stopping smoother."

Amala looked slightly nervous as Castiel turned them toward home. He carefully slowed his own pace so Amala would have a chance to get her own balance when landing. The instant she spread her wings to stop, Castiel did the same, and they touched down in the field.

Ryn looked up from where she was picking wildflowers. "How was it?" she asked.

"Amazing!" Amala gushed. "We went to the mountains and saw snow, and we were higher than the clouds!"

Ryn smiled. "That does sound amazing."

"We should have brought a camera," she exclaimed, turning to Castiel. "To show Mommy and Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean."

"Next time," Castiel agreed. "Now, we have to put our wings back."

"Oh, do I have to?" Amala asked, craning a look over her shoulder at the glossy appendages. "I like them out."

Castiel's mouth quirked. "Yes. Otherwise they can be quite inconvenient. You'll smush them whenever you try to sit in a chair, and sometimes the primaries can snag in doorways."

Not that Castiel had ever experienced that, but when he'd first taken a vessel, it had taken some getting used to _not_ having to worry about his wings. Movement had been very stilted in the beginning when he continued to operate as though his wings were corporeal.

"Now, tap into that frequency again, and shift your wings back to the higher plane."

Amala heaved her shoulders, but closed her eyes to do so. It took several long moments, but eventually her wings began to flicker translucently before finally disappearing. Castiel shifted his back as well.

Ryn inspected the back of Amala's coat. "Looks like the stitching held." She glanced up at Castiel. "You sure you don't want me to make those adjustments to your trench coat?"

"It's not necessary." He'd already mended the tears in his coat from this little excursion.

Ryn rolled her eyes to the sky. "Still, I think I'm going to find you a second coat, just for flying lessons." She canted her head in thought. "Something in black."

Castiel…didn't know what to say to that.

Ryn's eyes sparked deviously. "And maybe leather."

"Wouldn't it be considered a crime to mutilate an article of that quality material?"

"Not when I'm done with it," she rejoined airily, and took Amala's hand. "Come on, I bet you're hungry after all that flying. I think there's some cookies left."

Shaking his head in fond amusement, Castiel followed after his family.


	5. Nightmares

**A/N: Requested by Pandaruler1897 on Ao3.**

* * *

"Nightmares"

Sam flinched as a shard of light lanced through his dark room and skewered him straight behind his closed eyelids. Squinting against it, he could make out a small shape slipping into his room and coming to stand at the side of his bed. Sam blinked groggily as he glanced at the clock, which read 2:30 in the morning.

"Mhmp, Amala, what is it?"

"I had a bad dream."

Though still half asleep, he managed to push himself up slightly and switch on the bedside lamp, then rubbed at his eyes. "Are you okay?" He gave her a once-over, and she seemed fine.

Amy nipped at her bottom lip, quiet for a moment. "Daddy's not home."

Sam ran a hand down his face. Right. Cas and Ryn were off on a case, though they were due back tomorrow- er, later today. Sam finally sat up all the way and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then picked up the munchkin to sit her on his knee. "What was the dream about?"

"Monsters," she whispered.

Sam grimaced in sympathy. Sometimes living in the middle of a treasure trove of lore meant books about monsters got left out for young eyes to find. But unlike what John did, Sam wasn't planning on giving Amy a gun to sleep with under her pillow.

"Monsters can be pretty scary," he said.

"You're not scared of monsters."

"Sometimes I am," Sam replied. "But you know what, even monsters have something they're afraid of."

A confused pinch appeared between Amy's brows, so like Cas when he got flummoxed. "What do monsters have to be afraid of?"

"Well, uh…" Sam huffed out a small laugh. "They're afraid of me and Uncle Dean."

That little smile seemed infectious enough, and Amy's mouth quirked uncertainly. "Because you hunt monsters."

Sam's smile widened. "Yeah. So the next time you find yourself dreaming about them, you stand your ground and you tell those monsters that Sam and Dean Winchester are coming for them. And they'll turn around and _run_."

She gave him a tentative smile in return. "Okay."

Amala's mood seemed to be improving, but Sam's started to sober.

"Amy," he said carefully, "you know that not all monsters are bad."

She tilted her head at him in confusion again. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…we often use the word 'monster' to describe things that aren't…human." He grimaced. This really was a conversation Cas and Ryn should probably be having with Amala, not him. But Sam had stepped in it.

Amy just nodded along. "Like vampires and werewolves and rugaru."

Sam frowned. "Um, yeah. But, not all vampires and werewolves are bad. Some actually try to live peaceably and don't hurt humans. So those ones aren't monsters and we don't hunt them." Sam let out a soft smirk. "Some we've been friends with."

"You've been friends with a vampire?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"And a couple of werewolves. The point is, there's good and bad among every group, whether it's vamps or werewolves, or even humans." _Not to mention angels_. And demons. And, well, yeah, everyone.

"Just, don't judge an entire group because a lot of them do bad things," Sam went on. "And…just because a species is different, doesn't make them monsters. Everyone has to be judged on their actions and character."

Amy's brow furrowed further as she seemed to mull that over. "But, you and Uncle Dean do hunt a _lot_ of vampires."

Sam nodded sadly. "Because a lot of them are monsters. Just not _all_ of them."

"Okay," she said, seeming to accept that.

Sam was relieved she hadn't made the connection of not being human to herself. She may have been a half angel, half phoenix, but she looked human, as did her parents. Sam figured there would come a day when Amala would start to learn that she was different. But for right now, the start of this lesson was enough.

Sam picked her up and set her feet on the floor. "Ready to go back to sleep?"

Her expression pinched. "But what if the bad dream comes back?"

Sam sighed. But then with a soft smile, he scooted back on his mattress and lifted the covers up. "Come on."

Amy gave him a beaming look of gratitude as she clambered up in bed with him. "The monsters will be too scared to come in here," she said with full confidence.

Sam just shook his head before laying back against his pillow. "Yep. No monsters here."


	6. Forever Home

**A/N: Requested by mckydstarlight**

* * *

"Forever Home"

The doors to the pet store swooshed open, letting out a gust of air conditioning. Inside was bustling with clerks and customers, several of whom had dogs on leashes. Most of the activity, however, was congregated in the front right corner, which had been cordoned off for an adoption fair. From the entryway, Ryn could see a pen set up with a bunch of kittens frolicking around inside. Amala bounded ahead of her parents and two uncles when she spotted them.

"I guess I'll get a cart and start picking out supplies," Sam said.

"I'll go with you," Castiel offered.

Ryn tried to hide a smile; she knew Cas had done extensive research on how to care for a pet in preparation for this.

"Don't go overboard," Dean warned as those two moved off. His gaze was fixed on his niece, though, as the adoption fair volunteer let Amala into the pen to see the kittens.

"It's sweet of you to agree to this," Ryn said. They had all had several discussions about it before deciding that Amala could have a cat.

Dean shrugged. "She's been begging for one. And every kid deserves to have a pet."

There was more to that statement—Dean and Sam were of course doting uncles, but in many ways, they wanted to give Amala the childhood they'd never had.

"Besides," he went on. "Cas said he can heal my allergies."

Ryn shook her head wryly. Yeah, but Castiel would have to 'heal' him every other day or so. Dean's allergies were in his DNA; that wasn't something that could be permanently cured with angel grace.

"There is a hairless breed, you know," she pointed out.

Dean shot her an indignant look. "Sam showed me a picture. We are not getting one of those rats."

Ryn smacked his arm. "Don't be mean. Those kind can be just as loving and cute as a cat with fur."

"Well, such thing as a 'loving' cat is debatable," he muttered, and held up a hand. "We're here, we're going home with one from here."

Ryn just rolled her eyes. She had no doubt that a kitten would worm its way into that man's heart eventually.

Speaking of which, she and Dean headed over to the adoption fair where a handful of people were standing outside the pen and 'oohing' over the kittens, while a couple other children were inside with Amala.

"How's it going?" Ryn asked.

Amala looked up with a wide grin. "They're all so cute!"

A volunteer rattled a toy, and a black and white kitten went running over to it, skidding across the linoleum. Two cages stacked on top of each other made up one portion of the pen wall. The door to it was open, but a few kittens were sleeping in fleece hammocks inside.

"Are you folks looking to adopt?" one of the volunteers asked.

Ryn nodded. "Yes."

"Excellent. And just to let you know, we're having a discount if you take two home."

"Uh, just one," Dean immediately responded.

"But one could be yours, Uncle Dean," Amala said. Her eyes lit up. "And Uncle Sam could get one, and Mommy and Daddy. We could take home five!"

Dean shook his head and held up a single index finger. "One."

Amala sighed, but was quickly distracted by all the cuteness. Ryn just stood back and watched, letting her daughter get to know the various kittens until she found one that she connected with in some way. Castiel and Sam eventually joined them, their shopping cart full of items.

Dean raised his brows dubiously at the number of toys. "Seriously?"

"What?" Sam said defensively.

Dean picked through the items, which included a litter box, scooper, mat, and cat bed, among other things. "Is that a water fountain?"

"It keeps the water circulating and fresh," Castiel explained.

"Change the bowl every day," Dean countered.

Ryn tucked her fist over her mouth to keep from grinning. Honestly, it was like she and Dean were the parents here, and those two were also children, grabbing every shiny thing off the shelf.

She frowned at the top ledge of the cart. "Why did you pick out six collars?"

Castiel and Sam exchanged a look.

"Oh, well, we didn't know what color cat Amy would pick," Sam replied.

"You're putting half this stuff back," Dean said. "Including the water fountain."

Ryn turned around to see if Amala was close to narrowing it down, and found her not even paying attention to the kittens, but standing over by the back of the enclosure where permanent habitats had been built into the store's wall. She was peering into one of the plexiglass windows at an older cat, a russet brown feline that was pawing at the window, mouth opening in a muffled meow.

Amala turned to one of the volunteers. "Excuse me, what's this one's name?"

The woman walked over and glanced at a plastic holder on the wall too high for Amala to see. "That's Coco."

"Why is she in there?"

"The kittens can make some of the older cats nervous, so we don't let them out during the fair. Coco's only eleven months, but she's shy."

"Can I pet her?" Amala asked.

"Sure." The volunteer stepped away to grab a chair, and pulled it into the corner, away from the rambunctious kittens. Then she took a set of keys out of her pocket and reached up to open the cage. The cat inside cowered back, but the volunteer simply reached in and gently hauled the feline out. She then turned and told Amala to have a seat before setting the cat in her lap.

When the volunteer stepped back, Amala put a hand on the cat's back and started petting it lightly. The cat's eyes were wide as it roved a cautious gaze around the area and goings on, but didn't try to jump down or otherwise become agitated. In fact, after a few moments, it shifted its legs to settle down on all fours in Amala's lap, and even leaned its head and shoulders back against her stomach.

Amala looked up. "Mom, I like this one."

"She's beautiful," Ryn replied, opening the gate so she could come inside the pen.

"Can we take her home?"

Ryn smiled. "Absolutely."

The volunteer perked up and came back over. "Yeah? Want me to get the paperwork together?"

Amala nodded vigorously.

"That'd be great," Ryn said.

She filled out the necessary paperwork, and unfortunately had to lie on a few lines, as she couldn't exactly put the bunker's address down as their residence. But it was a quick and easy process, and with a signature and check, they had officially adopted Coco the cat.

"Dad and Uncle Sam picked up a carrier we can put her in," Ryn told Amala as they headed out of the pen, the cat tucked snuggly in Amala's arms.

The guys were standing a bit of the way down the aisle, still quibbling over some of the items in the cart.

Dean quirked a confused brow at them. "I thought you wanted a kitten," he said.

Amala glanced down at the bundle in her arms, and shook her head. "Everyone wants kittens. They get adopted easily. This one needs a home now."

Dean blinked, but seemed to accept that. "Alright, then."

"You have that carrier?" Ryn asked.

Sam quickly dug it out, a nice fabric one with mesh sides and a zipper opening. He set it on the floor and opened it so Amala could put the cat inside.

"Can I hold her?" she asked.

"It's pretty heavy," Sam said. "Here, I'll put her up front and you can help me push the cart."

"Is that it?" Dean asked.

"Just gotta pay for everything," Sam answered. "Oh, but first, which collar do you think, Amy?" he asked, and held up the assortment.

"Purple."

Ryn shot both Sam and Castiel a wry look. She could have told them that from the beginning.

They headed for the cash register. Ryn was amused to note that there were still quite a lot of toys in the cart. After checking out, Castiel took the carrier while the guys grabbed the shopping bags, and they all piled into the Impala. Amala sat between Ryn and Castiel in the backseat, constantly leaning down to peer at the cat inside the carrier, which Castiel held securely in his lap.

When they got back to the bunker, they took the cat down to Amala's room where it would be spending the next few days getting acclimated to a new living space before they'd let it out to explore the rest of the bunker.

Castiel set the carrier on the bed and waited for Dean and Sam to get the litter box and food and water dishes set up, and then unzipped it. The cat slowly poked its head out, nose going to town as it took in all the strange new scents. It cautiously hopped out and onto the floor, then slunk around the perimeter of the room, stopping to sniff everything.

"What's her name again?" Castiel asked.

"The lady said it was Coco," Amala replied. "But I don't think that fits."

"No?" Sam said. "Do you know what you want to call her?"

Amala's mouth pursed as she gave it some serious thought. "Mhm, Kit-Kat. But Kit for short."

Dean threw a dubious look at the adults in the room as if to say, _"Really?"_

"I think that's perfect," Ryn said, giving him a pointed look in return.

Amala nodded, too enraptured by her new companion to notice the silent back-and-forth of the adults. "This is your forever home, Kit. It's a good home and you'll be happy here."

Ryn's gaze drifted to meet her husband's, and they shared a quiet, unspoken understanding as two fellow 'strays' who had also found a forever home here, with a family that had taken them in as their own.

Castiel smiled, and reached out to squeeze her hand.

It was a good home.


	7. Uncle Gabriel

**A/N: LadyWallace, mckydstarlight, and** **FangirlDivided** **all wanted to see a fic with Gabriel, so here it is!**

* * *

"Uncle Gabriel"

Ruling Heaven sucked. Just ask any of the last half dozen or so who've been in charge of the place. Even those who were incompetent, like Metatron, would probably say in the end that it was annoying, tedious, and thankless work. Everyone always wanted something, whether it was to ask for clarification of tasks, or to propose some brilliant idea they'd come up with (but let's face it, most angels didn't have a modicum of imagination), or to simply fawn over Gabriel in an ingratiating manner. To think there had once been a time when he would have adored being waited on hand and foot.

Now, though, it was just so… _predictable_.

And, needless to say, Gabriel didn't get away as much as he'd like to visit his little extended family on Earth.

Today, however, he'd managed to slip away before another ' _urgent_ ' matter could be brought to him, and made his way down to Earth. He swooped over the fields of Lebanon, Kansas, angling toward the Men of Letters bunker, but banked up again when he caught a familiar small figure on top of the mound covering said underground dwelling.

Gabriel veered around and landed on one end of the rise, yet didn't make himself visible right away. His niece was up here alone, and though her wings were incorporeal at the moment, Gabriel could see them flexing as though in preparation for flight. He stood back and crossed his arms, watching intently.

Amala went up to the edge where the mound had a sharper drop, and peered over it. Then she straightened, her wings fluttering again.

Oh no she wouldn't…

Just as she was about to leap, Gabriel flew over with a gust of wingbeats and snatched Amala up by the back of her coat. She let out a startled yelp and started kicking, but Gabriel merely held her out at arm's length.

"I'm pretty sure your dad told you not to fly without him present," he chastised as the little twerp's legs dangled three feet off the ground.

She stilled instantly, eyes going wide. "Uh, hi, Uncle Gabriel."

He set her down on the ground. "Hey, squirt. What's shakin'?"

Amala threw her arms around his waist to give him a quick hug. He smiled as he hugged back. He really wanted to make a habit of visiting more often.

"Now, seriously," he said, "were you up here trying to fly without supervision?"

Amala grimaced guiltily before flashing him a sly grin. "You're here now, so technically, no."

Gabriel snorted.

She started bouncing in place. "Can we go flying? You can take me and Daddy wouldn't mind!"

"Mhm, _tempting_. But how about something better." With a snap of his fingers, he produced a brightly colored, striped lollipop.

Amala crossed her arms. "I'm too old to be bribed with candy."

Gabriel gave her a shocked look. "Why you little extortionist." He tossed the lollipop away, vaporizing it mid-air. "Fine, what do you want?"

"I want to go flying." She sidled up against him and brought out the puppy eyes she'd inherited from her father. " _Please_ ," she wheedled.

He pressed his index finger to her head and pushed her away. "Sorry, but your dad's rule stands." Gabriel couldn't believe he was saying that. "We'd have to ask his permission first."

Another thing Gabriel never thought he'd say in his life. He didn't know whether to blame ruling Heaven or uncle-hood. He'd have to set off glitter fireworks in the armory later or something to make up for it.

Amala pouted. "But Daddy's not home."

"Then we'll just have to find something else to do." Gabriel reached a hand up to tap a finger against his chin as he began to pace thoughtfully. "Hmm, I know!" He turned and placed a hand on Amala's shoulder, flying them both half a mile away to a pond in a wooded area.

"That was flying!" Amala protested.

" _I_ was flying, you weren't. It's different. Now come here." He ignored her displeased moue and draped an arm around her shoulders to guide her toward the water's edge. They stood there for several long moments until a shard of sunlight glinted off grey scales swishing just underneath the surface.

"It's a fish," Amala said, unimpressed.

Well, wasn't she a tough crowd. Gabriel crouched down and reached out to touch one finger to the water. Swirls of golden light suddenly went racing into its depths, lighting up the bottom. There were half a dozen schools of fish swimming back and forth. As the tendrils of Gabriel's grace snaked through the water, they glanced off their scales and scattered prismatic beams every which way, bathing the underwater world in rainbow colors.

Gabriel heard Amala give a small gasp of awe. Hah, now he had her attention. Twirling his finger, he shot out another ribbon of grace into the water, straight at one of the fish. As soon as it struck the creature, the wispy energy changed color and ricocheted. The blue bead hit another fish and rebounded into a stream of pink. But the next fish it headed for slipped out of the way, and the pulse struck a clump of hornwort, turning it a strawberry pink.

Gabriel quirked a brow. "Oops."

Amala giggled. "Do it again."

So he did, playing underwater pinball with a bunch of fish while his niece laughed at the funny colors things kept turning. He was wreaking havoc on the ecosystem, but he'd put it all back later.

Gabriel rocked back on his haunches. "You know, the first time your dad came to Earth, I took him to a shoreline, and we watched a little gray fish heave itself up onto the beach."

"Did you play with it?" Amala asked.

"No. We had to leave it alone. It was an important fish."

"Why was it important?"

Gabriel smirked. "There were big plans for that fish."

He decided not to say that her other two uncles were descended from said fish. Not yet, anyway.

Gabriel dipped his finger into the water and started restoring everything to its proper state. The underwater, magical world began to dim as his grace receded.

"Can you fly underwater?" Amala asked.

Gabriel stood up. "Sure. I went to Atlantis once." That had been a disaster no one liked to talk about.

"I think I'd like to explore the ocean," Amala continued. "Could we do that someday?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't see why not. _With_ your dad's permission, of course."

"Okay."

They started to walk back toward the bunker.

"Can you stay for dinner?" Amala asked. "I never get to see you."

"I know," he said regretfully. "But yes, I can stay for dinner tonight."

Hopefully he wouldn't return to find Heaven in shambles. But then, afternoons like these were always worth it.


	8. Tomato Soup

**A/N: Requested by a Guest on Ao3.**

* * *

"Tomato Soup"

"Couldn't you guys just come back?" Dean asked, phone pressed to his ear as he kept his voice low out in the hall.

"These scrolls are kind of important," Ryn replied. "And Sam just found a lead that might take us to their precise location."

Dean gestured helplessly to no one. Of all the times for Amy to go into molt, it had to be when everyone was off on some important mission and Dean was left alone babysitting.

"Cas can zip back here," he urged.

"Dean," Ryn said patiently, pulling out that mother tone on him. "It's not a big deal. She's gone through this before."

Yeah, and it had freaked Dean out. He'd started finding tiny feathers throughout the bunker, and Amy had been cranky for _days_. Cas had pretty much spent seventy-two hours straight trying to soothe his wailing toddler as her feathers grew in. And now they'd have to go through this all over again? Scratch that; _Dean_ would have to.

"But it's not like I know how to help," he pressed.

"Just try to keep her mind off it," Ryn responded. "It's really no different than a human child getting the chicken pox. She can let her wings out, but don't let her scratch too much. And the whole thing will eventually pass."

Dean heaved a sigh and grumbled, "Alright. Just hurry it up, would ya?"

"She'll be fine, Dean," Ryn assured him. "And so will you."

He had serious doubts about that, but went ahead and hung up, leaving Ryn, Cas, and Sam to the semi dangerous adventure while he was stuck trying to nurse a kid through a weird angel/bird phase.

Well, Ryn had said it was like chicken pox, and while Dean didn't have any way to cure that, either, he figured he could at least do what he'd done for Sam when he was a kid and sick in bed.

So Dean headed for the kitchen and started pulling ingredients out of the cupboards to make tomato rice soup. While that was heating up on the stove, he put a tray together with a bowl and silverware and a bottle of water. He also grabbed a can of soda for himself. Then, when everything was ready, he ladled a heaping serving of steaming soup into the bowl and proceeded to carry the tray down to Amy's room.

"Knock-knock," he said before nudging the cracked door open all the way.

Amy was curled up in bed, face scrunched up in a miserable pout. Kit was snuggled up against her legs. The feline had been sticking close since this all started. Dean didn't know whether to think the cat could sense Amy's discomfort, or if it was waiting for feathers to materialize to play with.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean said, carrying the tray over and setting it on the nightstand. "I brought you some soup."

Amy squinted up at him. "Why? It's not winter time."

"Because that's what you make someone when they don't feel well." He picked up the bowl and spoon and waited for her to scooch up into a sitting position, then handed them to her. "Careful, it's hot."

Dean watched as Amy took a tentative sip from a spoonful of steaming soup. Kit's ears perked up, and the cat got up to hop over Amy's legs and come sniff at the bowl.

"Not for you," Dean scolded lightly, and gently pushed the cat away. He could have sworn he got a dirty look for that, but the cat huffily turned around and went back to lay down at the foot of the bed.

Dean looked back at Amy. "How is it?"

She took another spoonful and nodded. "Yummy."

Dean smiled. Good. He popped open his can of soda and sat back while Amy slurped up the soup. Of course, its magic only lasted for as long as she was eating it. Once the bowl was empty and she'd set it aside, her face scrunched up in discomfort again and she let out a small whimper.

Dean straightened. "What is it?"

Amy squirmed. "They _itch_."

Dean pursed his mouth. Okay, think. If this were chicken pox, he'd get out calamine lotion. Somehow, he doubted that would work here. Ryn had said try to keep Amy's mind off it.

"How about I grab my laptop and we watch a movie?" Dean suggested.

Amy's lips pinched as she seemed to think about it for a moment. "Can we watch _Tangled_?"

Dean had to work to keep his expression schooled; he now knew that movie by heart, they'd watched it so many times. But it was her favorite, so at least they could hopefully get an hour and a half of distraction from it.

"Sure," he said with a smile, and got up to retrieve his computer so he could pull up Netflix.

After he'd set it up on the dresser and queued up the movie, he went and sat on the bed next to Amy, shoulder to shoulder, stretching his legs out. Kit grabbed at his ankle in what looked like irritation at her space being invaded, though she held onto his sock and didn't let go. Dean never could figure out what that cat was thinking, so he did his best to just ignore her.

Music filled the bedroom as the movie started, and he sat through yet another round of musical song and dance. Amy fidgeted a few times throughout the movie, not entirely able to forget the annoyance of new feathers growing in. It once again reminded Dean of the fact that he'd never seen Cas going through this, but the angel must have. He just had to have kept it secret from the Winchesters. Was it as miserable for him, too? Looking back, there had certainly been plenty of times when Cas had been cranky and tetchy. Dean had chalked it up to Cas having a surly side, but maybe there was more to it.

The movie ended, but Dean didn't get up, as Amy's head was resting against his shoulder. He craned his head to glance down at her face, and found her on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," he said, lifting an arm to drape around her. "Is it that bad?"

She sniffed. "It won't _stop_. I want it to stop."

Dean winced in sympathy. He remembered when he'd broken his leg several years back, how irritating and frustrating it'd been, not just to be laid up, but the cast had itched something fierce, and his leg muscles had struggled against atrophying. It had not been pleasant at all, and he hated seeing his niece having to suffer through something similar.

Dean shifted, drawing Amy closer against him in a secure embrace. There was one other thing he used to do for Sam when his baby brother was upset. Clearing his throat, softly, Dean began to sing.

He may have had the songs from _Tangled_ memorized from sheer repetition, but that wasn't the tune he chose. Just like with the tomato rice soup, there was only one song that fit the bill for situations like this.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better."

He kept up the low cadence, gently rubbing Amy's arm in sync with the rhythm. He felt her gradually still against him, lulled into sleep where she could finally get a break from the discomfort. Dean smiled, tilting his head to watch the distress lines in her face smooth out. She really was a little angel.

Kit got up and stretched, then climbed onto his shins and curled up into a ball.

"Really?" he said pointedly. The cat ignored him. Dean shook his head.

Oh, well. It wasn't like he was going anywhere, anyway.


	9. Eclipse

**A/N: A couple weeks late, but I thought it'd make a fun family outing for these guys. ^_^**

* * *

"Eclipse"

Castiel popped into the bunker long enough to grab the percolator, and then flew straight back to the campsite in the middle of the Oregon wilderness.

"You're a lifesaver," Dean said, immediately taking the object from Castiel and setting it up to brew some coffee.

Castiel rolled his eyes. "That's the last thing I'm going back for."

As grateful as he was to have his wings back after so many years bereft of them, sometimes he felt like a glorified taxi service.

"Hey, if we'd driven the Impala, we would have packed it full with everything we'd need," Dean groused.

"We never would have gotten the Impala all the way out here," Sam put in from where he was grilling pancakes in a skillet over an open fire. "At least this way we're avoiding the masses _and_ we get the best seat in the house."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled.

Castiel shook his head and left the older Winchester alone with the percolator, knowing that Dean would be more amenable after having his morning coffee, especially since he'd slept on the cold hard ground last night.

They all could have just come out to watch the eclipse only, but Sam had suggested they make a real camping trip out of it. And since one hundred, eighty-thousand people had poured into Oregon for the event, Castiel had simply flown them all out to the wilderness, far away from the crowded throngs. It had taken a couple of flights with everyone and the camping gear, and then some more for those forgotten 'necessities.' But it would be worth it, as it was just the five of them out here, right under the path of totality.

"Daddy!" Amala darted over. "Look what I found."

Castiel leaned down to see what was in her open palm—a large, bushy black and orange caterpillar. "Wow, that is quite a find."

Amala tilted her head at it. "What color butterfly will it turn into?"

"That's a tiger moth," he replied. "It will be yellow or orange after it transforms."

Amala lifted her hand to peer at the small insect more closely. "Cool."

"Can you show me where you found it?" Castiel asked.

She nodded and turned around to skip back toward the tree line of the clearing they'd set up camp in. Castiel followed.

Amala walked around a bush of heather before squatting down and pointing underneath it. "I found it there."

Castiel crouched down next to her. "I wonder if it's searching for a place to build its cocoon."

Amala pursed her lips. "Should I put it back in the same place?"

Castiel smiled. "I think that's a good idea."

She carefully deposited the caterpillar onto the ground underneath the bush.

"Breakfast's ready!" Sam called, and Castiel stood as Amala jumped up to run back over.

Sam flipped a pancake onto a small paper plate and handed it to her. Dean was already nursing a cup of steaming brown brew.

"Uncle Dean is like a caterpillar," Amala said out of the blue. "He needs his morning coffee to turn into a butterfly."

Sam chuffed out an amused sound between lips tightly pressed together, obviously trying not to laugh harder. Dean blinked, his brain cells not quite awake yet, but Castiel watched understanding slowly cross his features.

"Hey, now."

Amala giggled around a mouthful of pancake. "You're also slow like a caterpillar before you've had your coffee."

Sam chortled. "There is that."

"Stop ganging up on me," Dean said petulantly.

"At least not before he's finished his coffee," Ryn spoke up as she exited one of the camping tents with a pair of binoculars. "Here, I taped some of the special lens material to these."

Sam straightened with interest. "Nice."

"Don't burn the pancakes, Sammy," Dean lobbed at his more perky brother.

Sam merely responded by picking up a pebble and chucking it at him.

"Can I have another one?" Amala asked.

"Sure," Sam said, and poured some more batter into the griddle.

Castiel took a seat on the log next to Dean and basked in the scents of pine, mountain air, and grilled pancakes.

The eclipse would be starting soon, though it would be about forty-five minutes before total coverage. Castiel had seen numerous ones before, as had Ryn, he was sure. But this would be Amala's first, and that made it feel like a brand new experience, even for him. The Winchesters also seemed excited, though Sam was more obvious about it. It was probably the first time they'd taken away from hunting to marvel at such a phenomenon—without having to worry about dire omens.

Sam finished making breakfast for everyone and they shared the makeshift meal devoid of the typical adornments found in a kitchen. Dean called it 'roughing it'; Castiel found it simple.

When it was time, they set aside whatever they were doing to pick up pairs of plastic protective sunglasses and turned their gazes skyward.

"Wow," Sam said. "This is amazing."

"Yeah, it is pretty cool," Dean echoed.

"Where is it?" Amala said, craning her head back and forth as she peered through the blacked out glasses.

Castiel knelt down on one knee beside her and reached out to hold her still. He then guided her to turn a quarter of a circle. "Now look up."

She tilted her head back, and gasped. "I see it!"

Castiel lifted his gaze, not needing the protective lenses. The moon was just a sliver of a thumbnail crossing in front of the sun for now, but was still wondrous to behold.

He looked away before his daughter could notice he wasn't using the glasses and call him on it. Or worse, try to emulate him. In truth, Amala probably didn't need the special glasses, either. After all, her father was an angel and her mother was a creature of fire—he doubted even the sun could burn her.

But Castiel didn't care to test those limits, and so he and Ryn had agreed to use the glasses like the Winchesters.

The initial awe wore off after only a few minutes, as the eclipse was still in its early stages, and Amala went back to exploring the area while the adults returned to puttering around the campsite, cleaning up after breakfast and straightening the interior of the tents. Dean got out the fishing rods Castiel had made a special trip home for after they'd discovered a stream close to camp.

"Let's see if I can catch us some dinner," Dean said. He cocked his head. "Hey, Cas, can you get the fish to swim our way?"

Castiel gave the hunter a bland look. "Do I look like the Trout Whisperer to you?"

Sam barked out a laugh while Dean rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" Amala called. "There are moons on the ground!"

They looked over to the trees where she was standing, then at the ground covered in crescent shaped lights scattered throughout the shadows cast by the branches above.

Sam went over, sweeping his gaze over the ground excitedly. "These are projections of the sun."

Amala's face scrunched up in confusion. "But they look like the moon."

"It's because the small openings between the leaves act like a pinhole camera," Sam explained. "And that makes an enlarged image of the sun, which at the moment isn't a full circle like usual."

"Oh. Cool."

Sam grinned. "It is." He got out his phone and started taking pictures.

"Nerd," Dean muttered under his breath, but he got out his phone and held the camera aperture up against the special sunglasses, angling both up toward the sky to snap some shots.

The air had an obvious tinge of orange to it now that more of the sun was disappearing, and it was growing steadily darker.

"Almost there now," Sam announced, looking through the binoculars Ryn had rigged up.

Amala scrambled over to snatch up her glasses again. Gathered together, they watched the moon devour the last sliver of the sun.

It felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees in that moment, and the cicadas started up, their nocturnal instincts triggered by the near nighttime darkness.

"You can look without the glasses now," Castiel said. They would have only a brief time to take in the totality while it was safe to look directly at it.

There was still a glimmer of ambient light in the sky from wisps of the sun's corona, now visible with the bulk of the burning sphere blacked out by the moon. Though there was one tiny piece of the sun not yet engulfed, and it blazed out from the top corner of the silhouette, aptly named the diamond ring effect.

Everyone was silent, taking in the experience. It almost felt like everything was suspended in time, save that the two minutes were over too quickly.

"Okay, glasses back on," Castiel said, and did the same himself. An orange haze suffused back down across the earth as the moon continued its path.

"That was neat!" Amala exclaimed. "When can we see another one?"

"It'll be another hundred years before another one will come to this spot," Sam said.

Her face fell. "That's a long time."

Castiel's lips quirked with a rueful smile; not so long for an immortal.

"There will be more seen from other places around the world," Sam added. He perked up. "Hey, we could become eclipse chasers. Cas could pretty much fly us anywhere."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "Seriously?"

Sam huffed. "You don't have to come."

"I want to come!" Amala jumped in. "And I can fly, too!"

Sam shot his brother a smug look, but then turned a softened expression toward Amala. "Yeah, when you're older, we can go chasing eclipses together."

Amala beamed.

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he stood up and grabbed the fishing poles. "Well, since the next one will be a few years, do you want to come fishing me with right now?"

"Can I hold the pole?" Amala asked.

"Sure. Cas?"

"I'm not calling the fish to you, but I'll come," Castiel replied.

The three of them made the short trek a little ways from camp to a nearby mountain stream. Castiel watched Dean show Amala how to bait the hook and check the line, then stand behind her to show her how to cast it.

The ground was once again covered in crescent suns peeking through the shaded canopy, the air bathed in a sepia aura as the eclipse took its slow and steady path of recession. It reminded Castiel of a vague memory, of Dean sitting on a pier with a fishing rod, the world painted in sienna tones. Castiel hadn't had the time to take much note of it then, or after, as he'd been dragged from his vessel and many bad things had happened thereafter. They didn't really bear thinking upon.

But this here wasn't a dream, wasn't a facsimile locked inside someone's head as the only refuge available in a world falling apart. No, this was real—Dean's smile, Amala's laughter, taking time away from hunting to enjoy the world they'd all fought so hard to save time and time again.

Castiel stood on the river bank and watched his family. They were the true marvel here, more than any eclipse could ever be. And he cherished them every day.


	10. Priceless

**A/N: Thank you to my readers who weren't logged in—FangirlDivided and Pony—for your reviews of the last story! I'm glad it was accurate of the experience, as I didn't get to see totality and had to go off hearing other people's accounts. And I have quite a few more one shots for this series lined up to keep us going for a while yet. XD**

 **Based on a request by NordicRivers. I wasn't able to incorporate everything from the suggestion, but I hope you like what I came up with!**

* * *

"Priceless"

Castiel dumped that morning's grounds out of the coffee machine and filled it with a fresh scoop to brew.

"You know, for a guy who doesn't sleep, you sure go through that stuff like an insomniac."

Castiel tossed a wry look at Dean where the Winchester was fixing a sandwich at the opposite counter. "I like the taste."

"When are you going to broaden your horizons?"

"Sam recently ordered a Panama Geisha variety." Castiel enjoyed its honey and citrus flavor, paired with a jasmine aroma. But it was expensive and not something to be had every day.

Dean just shook his head and went back to making his second lunch. Castiel pressed the brew button and waited for the delicious earthy aroma to start filling the room.

Small footsteps padded into the kitchen. "Dad, I drew something for you."

Castiel turned as Amala held a sheet of paper out to him. "You did? Let's see."

He took the page and lifted it up. It was full of brightly colored lines and shading done in crayon, depicting two stocky figures with dark hair, one smaller than the other. Behind them, great sweeping wings fanned out across the page, also both black, but with different blends of blues and purples in the various 'feathers.' Castiel broke into a wide smile.

"This is beautiful. I love it."

Amala beamed up at him.

"I'm going to put it on the fridge," he said, and went to take a trinket magnet off the refrigerator to affix the drawing there.

Dean glanced over. "We've got a little Picasso, huh?" he said with a proud grin.

"I think so," Castiel agreed. Amala could be whatever she wanted when she grew up, and for a moment he imagined her becoming an artist, perhaps a painter, or sculptor, as she enjoyed working with clay, too.

"Dad, why is that one still there?" Amala asked, pointing to the drawing right next to the one he'd just put up. It had nothing but multi-colored scribbles scratched out haphazardly across the page.

"It's the first one you ever drew," Castiel replied.

"But that was forever ago. And I can draw much better now."

"I still think it's beautiful," Castiel said.

And he did. It was strange sometimes to think that he was several billion years old; he'd watched humanity for so long that nothing should be new for him. Everything had been done before, even a child's small scribbles. And yet everything Amala made, no matter how abstract or unpolished, was infinitely precious to him.

"I remember the first art thing Sam made in school," Dean put in. "When we were in school," he added wryly. "It was this crazy macaroni and glue thing, but he was so proud of it." Dean's face turned slightly sober. "When it was time to move on from that town, Dad told him to throw it away. Gotta pack light, you know." He gave himself a small shake. "But I kept it. Because it was my little brother's first art project."

Castiel gave Dean a sad look. He had always on some level been able to commiserate with the Winchesters over their absent fathers, and yet, now that he was a father himself, he understood John and Chuck even less. He couldn't imagine not cherishing one's child with every fiber of one's being.

Amala canted a thoughtful look up at the drawings on the fridge, then turned and gave Castiel a hug. "Thank you for not throwing my art away."

Castiel smiled softly and draped an arm over her back. "You're welcome."

She darted over to give Dean a quick hug next, and then made her exit from the kitchen.

Castiel turned back to the coffee maker as it gurgled the fresh brew into his mug.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said.

He looked over.

Dean gave him a small smile and nod. "You're doing it right."

Castiel smiled in return. It helped to have the reminder sometimes, especially given his own family history. But despite his initial worries from when Amala had been born, Castiel had found out quickly that loving her was second nature.

"I think we all are," he said.


	11. Uncle Crowley

"Uncle Crowley"

Crowley roved a bland gaze over the devil's trap constructed of tree branches tied together with twine in the canopy above his head. It was quite cleverly camouflaged, just like the other one he'd already circumvented in these woods. One might call the motley group who vacationed out here paranoid.

Although, they were right to be.

The King of Hell turned his attention toward several yards away where a lone little girl was engaged in photographing various flowers with a little disposable camera, completely oblivious to the creature currently stalking her movements. Crowley narrowed his eyes and waited.

Some leaves rustled, finally drawing the child's attention. She paused, and craned a look over her shoulder. The woods fell silent again for a long moment. Not even the sounds of birds could be heard in the trees, which would have been a big tip-off to someone older and more experienced with hunting.

A twig snapped. The girl didn't move, obviously spooked but perhaps too afraid to run back to the safety of her mother's cabin. She kept twisting around instead, rounded eyes searching for some unseen stalker.

Crowley teleported over, landing right in front of her. She went rigid with a small gasp. "Close your eyes, luv," he said.

Something growled in the bushes behind her, and her pupils dilated further before she squeezed her eyes shut with a whimper.

Crowley vanished, only to reappear right in the path of the werewolf who had taken his disappearance as an opening to attack. The King of Hell drove an angel blade into the monster's chest and straight through its heart. It let out a beastly snarl and yelp, partially transformed already from its pureblood abilities.

Crowley yanked the blade out and sidestepped, letting the body fall to the ground with a thud. He wiped his weapon on the werewolf's pants, and then snapped his fingers to disintegrate the corpse into dust. He turned back to Amala.

"Now then, that's taken care of. No more big bad wolf."

She slowly turned around to face him, expression stricken with terror. It gave him a sort of perverse pleasure, being on the receiving end of such reverence.

Her gaze kept twitching to the angel blade in his hand, so he stowed it away. Even then, she didn't speak.

"What, don't I get a 'thank you'?" Crowley asked. "I did just save you from a werewolf."

She gave him a squinty head-tilt that was so recognizable, Crowley almost rolled his eyes at the saccharine similarity.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she finally replied.

"Ah, well, I'm Uncle Crowley. I'm an old friend of your mum and dad. So see? We're not strangers."

She continued to eye him skeptically.

"Nice camera," he went on. "You like taking pictures?"

She glanced down at it. "Maybe."

He smirked at her evasive answer. Good girl.

"Amy?" a voice called. "It's lunch time." Crunching leaves preceded Dean Winchester making his way through the woods. The hunter pulled up short at the sight of Crowley, expression instantly hardening. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets and adopted a casual stance. "Taking care of a stray wolf that was interested in Little Red." He canted his head at the child. "You're welcome."

Dean's frown deepened, and he looked at Amala. "You okay?"

She nodded. "There was a monster."

Dean flicked a suspicious look at Crowley, who rolled his eyes.

"What, you want the body? I was trying to keep things rated G." He took one hand out of his pocket and mimed snapping his fingers.

Dean's eyes narrowed in real concern, and he lowered his voice, which was silly since the girl was standing right there. "Was it here on purpose?"

Crowley shrugged one shoulder blithely. "Yes. But it was alone. Most things know to stay away from here. There was a memo. Still, you might want to think about installing some early detection systems."

Dean held up a hand and shook his head. "Yeah, alright. Now get lost."

Crowley sighed. "Your lack of gratitude is setting a poor example."

"Thank you for saving me from the monster," the child quickly spoke up.

He grinned. "Thank you for saving me from the monster, _Uncle Crowley_."

"Oh, _hell no_."

Crowley smirked as he shot Squirrel a smug mien. "Such language. Does Feathers know what you're teaching his daughter?"

"Crowley," Dean growled. "Thanks for your help," he enunciated sharply. "But if you don't beat it right now, I'm gonna call Cas to come out here. Or better yet, Ryn."

Crowley huffed. "Fine. Do give my regards to everyone."

He teleported away.

A few days later, he found a bottle of scotch with a red ribbon tied around the neck. No note, but Crowley knew who it was from. He popped it open and poured himself a glass before sitting back on his throne with a satisfied moue, and contemplating the intriguing potentials of befriending a half phoenix, half angel. At the moment, she was quite innocent, but who knew what that delicate little morsel would grow up to be one day…


	12. Grounded

**A/N: Cammie on Ao3 requested a fic with Amy flying without supervision and getting into some danger. I made some adjustments to the original request to keep the peril more minor, but it still has Amy disobeying and Sam and Dean rescuing her, so I hope it satisfies!**

* * *

"Grounded"

Amala tilted her head up and snapped a shot of the tree canopy with her little disposable camera. She then pursed her mouth in consideration. There was a bird flitting around up in the branches, and Amala kept glimpsing bits of its brilliant blue plumage. She really wanted to capture a picture of it, but her vantage point on the ground wasn't close enough, and it was hiding amongst the leaves.

She roved her gaze around, and spotted a large dead tree a few feet away from the healthy copse. That would be the perfect spot to get an eye-level shot of the bird without coming too close and disturbing it.

Amala slowly looked over her shoulder back toward the bunker, then around the other direction toward the drive. No one was around. She wasn't supposed to fly without her dad's supervision, but it was just a short leap up into the tree, and she'd gone flying enough times to know how to control her ascension and landing. She'd be real quick, up and back on the ground again before anyone noticed.

Keeping her wings incorporeal, Amala focused on becoming aware of them. It was easier to fly if they were manifested, but Dad flew all the time without having to do that, so she could, too. Her muscles flexed, feathers ruffling. She spread her wings and gave a tremendous flap to launch herself up to the top of the dead tree.

Her landing was smooth and executed perfectly, and she had a brief moment of a proud grin before the bark beneath her feet let out a groan and abruptly gave way.

o.O.o

Dean was working on the Impala's engine when a scream had him jolting so hard he smacked his head on the raised hood. Ignoring the painful throbbing, he spun away from the car and bolted out the open garage door into the wooded area outside.

"Amy?" he yelled, sweeping a frantic gaze around. "Amy!"

Where was she? She'd just been playing outside. Had another monster tracked them down at the bunker and gone after her again? Dammit, he should have been watching more closely.

"Amy!" he shouted desperately as he sprinted through the woods. He pulled up short when he thought he heard a faint response.

"Help," a muffled voice called out.

Dean twisted around, trying to pinpoint it. "Amy? Where are you?" Why couldn't he see her?

"Here!" she called out with a half-sob. "I'm in here!"

Her voice was getting louder, so he was close. But 'in' where?

"Uncle Dean?" Amy called out again.

He came to a stop in front of a large oak with bare, gnarled branches. What the…

"Amy?"

"In- in here," she sobbed.

Dean's eyes widened in horror. "How the hell did you get in there?" he exclaimed.

He heard a few muffled sniffles before her pitiful response. "I fell."

Fell? Dean craned his neck back to look at the top of the tree nearly fifteen feet in height. Had she climbed up there? The thing was covered in rot. The entire trunk was probably hollowed out, which was how she'd gotten trapped in there. But if she'd fallen…

"Are you hurt?" he asked urgently.

She was quiet for a moment, save for her continuing sniffles. "N-no. But…my wing hurts. I can't fly out."

Okay, okay… Dean forced himself to take a centering breath as he pressed his palms against the craggy bark. Damn thing felt pretty sturdy at the base.

"Okay. I'll get you out of there. Just hang tight." Tools, he needed tools. "I'll be right back."

"Don't leave me!"

Dean's chest constricted. "I'm not leaving you, sweetheart. I'm gonna be right back. I have to get a tool to help me get you out of there, okay? I'm coming right back, I swear."

"O-okay," she said shakily.

He tore himself away from his terrified niece and ran back to the garage. What should he grab? A chainsaw would be effective, but he didn't want to frighten Amy more than she already was. An axe, then.

Dean made a quick detour to the inner door and poked his head inside the bunker to holler, "Sam!" He then hurried to the wall to grab the axe.

Sam's pounding footsteps came up the stairs a moment later. "What's wrong?"

"Amy's stuck inside a tree."

Sam quirked a dubious brow. "What? You mean, like, stuck up in a tree?"

"No, like inside a friggin' tree trunk," Dean replied as he hefted the axe and made a beeline back outside, Sam sputtering on his heels.

"Amy, I'm right here," Dean called when he reached the tree. "So is Uncle Sam. We're gonna get you out."

"Okay," came her whimpered reply.

"Call Cas," Dean told his brother. "She hurt her wing."

"No!" Amy cried. "Please don't tell him."

Dean frowned. "What? Why not?"

She let out a small mewl. "Because I was flying when he told me not to."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam. Right, that explained some things, like how she'd gotten to the top of the tree in the first place. They could probably get her out on their own, but if her wing was hurt, they'd need Cas to look at it.

"We have to tell your parents," Sam said as he pulled out his phone and started typing out a text message.

Dean ran his hand along the trunk in search of the weakest spot to hack through. It was difficult to tell, though, so he'd just have to pick a place. He nodded to Sam and gestured for him to head around the opposite side.

Sam pocketed his phone and gave a harried nod. "Amy, come over to the side where my voice is, okay?"

"O-okay."

"That's it. Now cover your head. Dean's going to come in from the other side."

Dean took up position and raised the axe. He swung down, steel thwacking into the rough bark and sending chips flying. He pulled back and struck again, trying to control his swings so that most of the bark was being hacked away on his end. Thankfully, the dead wood started coming away more easily, and he finally made a hole into the hollowed out center. Now he just had to make it big enough for Amy to crawl out through.

There was a flutter of wingbeats behind him as Cas suddenly appeared.

"What happened?" the angel demanded frantically, wide eyes taking in the scene.

"She fell from the top," Sam quickly explained.

"I'm almost through," Dean added before Cas could decide to simply rip the tree up by the roots in order to get to his daughter.

"Amala?" Cas called worriedly.

"I'm here," she called back.

"Keep your eyes covered," Dean said. "I'm almost there." He dug the axe blade into a chink of bark and ripped another chunk loose, finally making a hole big enough. "Okay, come on, sweetheart."

Dean peered into the darkened interior and watched Amy uncurl from where she was pressed against the bark on the opposite side, and then slowly crawl her way over. He stepped back then as Cas hurried in to grab her and lift her out the rest of the way. She was covered in dirt and hair mussed, but Dean didn't see any blood.

Cas dropped to his knees and ran frantic hands over her arms and head, searching for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head mutely, and Cas wrapped her in a tight hug.

Dean shifted, uncertain about butting in, but… "She said her wing hurt."

Cas's mouth turned down as he peered over her shoulder. "Did you try to catch your fall?"

Amy bobbed her head, biting her lip. Cas ran his hand down her back, then over the space behind her shoulder blades where Dean presumed her wings were, but, you know, not.

Cas's shoulders sagged in obvious relief. "It's not broken. Just a sprain, I think." He let out a stressed breath. "You need to be more careful climbing like that."

Sam cleared his throat and gave Amy a pointed look. She ducked her gaze. Cas glanced at him and Dean in confusion.

"I wasn't climbing," she mumbled. "I flew."

Cas's brow furrowed. "You flew?"

"I wanted to take a picture of a bird," she said pitifully. "It was just supposed to be real quick."

Cas closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again and gazing at her sagely. "So you flew even though you knew you weren't supposed to?"

Amy nodded, eyes still fixed on the ground. "I'm sorry."

Cas placed a finger under her chin and gently lifted it so she would look at him. "Now do you understand why I set that rule?"

She nodded through a sniffle.

Cas gave her a sober look and after a pause, added gently, "And you understand I have to ground you for breaking it?"

Amy nodded again.

Cas pulled her into another tight hug and cupped the back of her head. "I'm just glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you."

She raised her arms to hug back, burying her face in Cas's neck. "I'm sorry," she said again.

Cas held on for a prolonged moment, and then shifted to pick her up in his arms. "Let's go take care of that wing," he said, and gave the Winchesters a sober look of gratitude.

Dean nodded in return. He needed a drink after all this. Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking much the same.

Dean bent down to reach into the hollowed trunk for Amy's camera and dusted it off. She'd be wanting it back. But later. After her punishment was over. Though, Dean figured what she'd just been through was probably punishment enough. It was a good thing he was just the uncle.

Dean nodded to his brother. "Let's get a beer."

Sam huffed out a snort. "Yeah."

And later, Dean was coming back out here with a chainsaw and taking this wretched tree down for good.


	13. Birthday Party

**A/N: I can't believe it took me this long to get Charlie in one of these one shots. :#**

* * *

"Birthday Party"

Ryn carefully navigated her way down the stairs with her arms full of shopping bags, and deposited her load on the map table, Dean and Charlie right behind her.

"Thanks so much for letting me take over the party planning," the spunky red-head said.

Ryn just smiled; she honestly didn't mind letting Charlie go to town since the human obviously enjoyed it so much. Charlie was better at it then the rest of them, too, and always loved coming up with themes that Ryn never would have thought of. She still wasn't entirely sure what Moondoor was, but it had elves or fairies or something, so was probably appealing to a little girl.

Speaking of which, Amala came bounding into the library, dressed in black leggings and a teal and green paisley blouse that was long enough to almost look like a dress. Ryn had plaited her hair back that morning and pinned it with a simple flower clip.

"Hey, there's the princess of the party!" Charlie beamed.

"I'm not a princess," Amala replied.

Dean shot her an affronted look. "Of course you are."

Amala shook her head. "A princess is an ascribed status. They don't do anything to earn it, but people are supposed to fawn over them. I don't want to be a princess."

Both Dean and Charlie turned to Ryn with raised brows.

Ryn held up her hands. "I did not teach her that."

After a beat, Charlie grinned and turned to Amala. "High-five for girl power."

Amala slapped her hand against Charlie's.

"Wait, what about Rapunzel?" Dean asked incredulously. "You love that movie."

"Rapunzel didn't know she was a princess, so she didn't think she had to act like one," Amala replied matter-of-factly.

"And she saved the hero, Flynn Ryder," Charlie put in. "And herself. No damsel in distress there."

"Nope!" Amala chimed.

Dean cast a lost look at Ryn, who shrugged. She just hoped there wasn't any princess paraphernalia in these bags.

But then Charlie was reaching into one of them and pulling out a plastic crown.

"I had to earn my title of Queen of Moondoor," she said, placing the crown on her head. "By leading my army into battle against the Dark Elves and defeating them."

Amala's eyes widened with interest. "Really? Can I lead an army into battle?"

Charlie stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps one day, young grasshopper. But today, your mission is to evade all party preparations. Catching sight of even one decoration before everything's ready could break the spell and turn you into a toad!"

Amala canted a dry look at her. "I don't think it works that way, Aunt Charlie."

The red-head crossed her arms. "Does so. Or maybe it is something else." She waved a dismissive hand. "Either way, only princesses peek when they're not supposed to because they think they're entitled."

Amala rolled her eyes, but turned to scamper off back to her room, passing Sam and Castiel on the way.

"Hey, Charlie," the younger Winchester greeted, gaze roving over the bags. "Wow, uh, need some help?"

"Actually, I need someone to pick up the cake," she replied. "I didn't want to risk it getting smashed with all the party supplies."

"I can get it," Castiel offered.

Charlie's smile lit up. "Perfect! I'll give you the address."

Ryn started opening the other shopping bags to see what was inside. Streamers, glitter, party tablecloths, and an assortment of plastic shapes for decoration, from flowers to shield-maiden crests. Not too princess-y, then.

After giving Cas the location of the bakery, Charlie started instructing everyone on where to set up things. They covered the library study tables with green plastic tablecloths, and then taped streamers of red diamond cut-outs around the edges. Plates and cups were then set out on one table, while presents were placed on the other.

Charlie also had vases and fake gerber daisies, which she set around as centerpieces. Sam hung more streamers from the tops of bookcases to cross the room above their heads, and Dean had started bringing in chips and soda from the kitchen.

It didn't take Castiel long to return with the cake, since he'd decided to fly, claiming it was more stable than driving. He placed the large bakery box in the middle of the table with the other food and opened the lid, revealing a rectangular cake covered in decorative buttercream frosting depicting an enchanted forest.

"What flavor did you get?" Ryn asked curiously.

"Lemon with raspberry filling," Charlie replied.

Nice. Ryn gazed around at the library, amazed at how quickly they'd been able to transform it. "Is everything ready?"

"Hold on!" Charlie squealed, and made a mad dash to hang one of the shield-maiden crests over the back of the chair in front of the cake. "Okay, now we're good!"

Ryn headed down the corridor to retrieve Amala, who was sitting in her room reading. "You can come see now," she said.

Her daughter bounded off the bed and darted forward, eyes dancing with excitement. They made their way back out to the library, and once there, Amala's face lit up even more.

"Happy birthday!" Sam, Dean, and Charlie shouted.

Amala grinned from ear to ear. "This is awesome!"

Charlie struck a queenly pose. "Of course it is. Now, first things first—presents!" She walked over to the gift table and picked up a medium size package wrapped in bright yellow paper with balloons.

Amala tore into it. The paper had only been covering a plain cardboard box, which she then had to pry open, but inside was a figurine of a fairy with fiery wings that looked like actual flames.

"Ooh, it's so pretty," Amala gushed.

Charlie grinned happily.

The next one was from Sam and Dean, and was a combination of a purple hat and matching purple jacket, which Amala thanked them both for heartily.

Castiel picked up the last gift and passed it to Amala. "This is from your mother and me."

She ripped open the wrapping paper and let out a stunned gasp. Ryn smiled as their daughter looked up at them with wide eyes.

"Really?" she squeaked.

Ryn nodded. She and Cas had decided that since Amala's interest in photography was continuing to develop and didn't appear to be a phase, that she should have a real camera instead of those disposable ones.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed as her attention became absorbed in the features listed on all the sides of the box. "I can print pictures from the computer! No more waiting to get them developed."

"That's right," Castiel said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Sam said he can help you with that."

Amala started trying to get the box open. "I want to take pictures of the party."

Sam laughed. "Okay, okay. How about I get that open and the batteries put in, and you blow out the candles on your cake so we can eat it?"

"Deal," she proclaimed, handing him the box and hurrying over to the other table.

Dean got out a lighter and started to light the candles, and then the rest of them gathered around to sing "Happy Birthday." Amala sucked in a deep breath, and then blew hard to extinguish all the candles in one go. They cheered when the last one blew out.

"No trick candles?" Dean asked Charlie, appearing slightly disappointed.

She rolled her eyes in response.

"What's a trick candle?" Amala asked.

"See, now you ruined it," Sam joined in, holding the brand new camera.

Amala hopped out of the chair and went to look at it.

Dean shook his head as he picked up a knife to cut the cake. "You're raising a nerd, Cas. She'd rather geek out over a camera than have sugar."

Castiel's mouth quirked.

Dean started placing slices of cake on paper plates and handing them out while Sam was showing Amala all the buttons and features on her new camera. The adults mingled about, chatting and eating as Amala began testing out her gift and snapping shots of them. With the memory card Ryn and Castiel had gotten to go with the camera, she could take as many as she wanted.

"Is Uncle Gabriel coming?" Amala spoke up.

Castiel nodded. "He said he'd be here, so he will."

She smiled and went back to taking pictures.

Castiel took a step toward Ryn. "I hope he's not late because he's getting her a unicorn," he said under his breath.

Ryn's mouth quirked, but only in half amusement—one never knew what to expect from the Trickster archangel.

She canted her head at the slightly morose look that had suddenly overtaken her husband's face. "What is it?"

His shoulders sagged a fraction. "I understand the concept of birthdays celebrating the joy of the person who came into the world on this day," he began. "But I don't think I enjoy them very much. She's growing up too fast."

Ryn slipped an arm around his waist and gave him a side hug. "Yeah, they do that."

Amala bounded up to them and raised her camera. "Say 'cheese'!"

Ryn and Castiel dutifully did so.

"I still don't understand the correlation of cheese and photography," the angel commented once Amala had darted away again.

Ryn just grinned. She noticed Kit had slunk out of the back to come investigate the hubbub and was now slapping a paw at some of the discarded wrapping paper on the floor, as it made a crinkly sound. Ryn bent down and picked up a nearby piece, wadded it up into a ball, and tossed it behind a chair. The cat went skittering after it.

Charlie sidled up to her and Cas. "I'd say this party was a success," she declared.

Ryn smiled. "I'd say so, too. Thank you, Charlie."

The woman blushed. "Oh, it was nothing. I never thought I'd be an aunt. Not to mention an aunt to an amazing half phoenix, half angel."

Castiel smiled at her, too. "Yes, well, family doesn't end with blood."

Charlie's face pinked ecstatically. "Oh, you said the classic line! Well, one of them. But that was awesome!"

Cas's brow quirked in confusion. "Um…you're welcome?"

Charlie grinned and patted his arm, then turned to head over to Sam and Dean. Amala was taking pictures of Kit wrestling with the ball of wrapping paper.

Ryn slipped her arm around Cas again and leaned into him, just enjoying the family gathering. She never thought she'd be here, either, surrounded by loved ones like this. Sure, maybe there was some sadness in Amala growing up, but Ryn had been through this once before with her son, and she was looking forward to the future. One with boundless possibilities.


	14. When I Grow Up

**A/N: Cammie on Ao3 requested some Amy wanting to be like her uncles, and it made a nice segue into a development I'd been planning.**

 **Also, thank you to everyone who's followed and favorited this collection. I'm honestly quite surprised by all the interest, but am very happy people are enjoying the fluff. ^_^**

* * *

"When I Grow Up"

Dean shoved the bunker door open and descended the stairs, carry-out bag in hand. He'd been having a craving for an Elvis burger and had decided to go out and get one. Or two. He knew better than to pick up any for his housemates, as Sam had dissed the amazing invention, and the two supernatural residents didn't eat very often. Cas had tried the Elvis burger once, at Dean's nagging, but after one bite had said it tasted worse than the molecules that made it up.

Dean couldn't believe he lived with a bunch of people who had zero appreciation for good food.

Speaking of supernatural roommates, he found Cas and Ryn in the library comparing notes on an ancient text they were translating. Dean didn't interrupt, and simply sat down at the other table to unwrap his tasty treat.

"You are getting too old to put that crap in your body."

He shot an affronted look at Ryn. "Hey, now. We agreed there would be no dissing the Elvis burger. This thing is a work of art."

"It's the makings of a heart attack," Cas put in, leveling a pointed look at Dean.

He shoved a big bite into his mouth and grinned through stuffed cheeks. "Goo' th'ng you c'n heal mh."

Cas rolled his eyes in exasperation, but was thankfully distracted from delivering a further lecture by the front door grating open and Sam's and Amy's voices preceding their entrance. Sam was in his running clothes, but Dean had to do a double-take at the plaid shirt Amy was wearing, which was much too big for her, but she'd simply taken the ends and tied them in a huge knot on her hip.

"Hey there," Dean said. "What have you been up to?"

"I went for a run with Uncle Sam," Amy replied.

Dean's brows rose and he cast a dubious look at his brother. Sam just shrugged.

Amy came over to the table and sat in the chair perpendicular to Dean. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to his food.

"That is the Elvis burger," Dean said proudly.

"It's a monstrosity, is what it is," Sam snorted.

"Shut your mouth," Dean retorted. "It's _genius_. A patty, bacon, _and_ two donuts."

"Can I try it?" Amy asked.

Dean smirked at his brother before nodding to her. "Sure you can." He got out the second one he'd ordered and unwrapped it in front of her. Amy's eyes bugged as she gaped at it, and, actually, it was kinda bigger than her whole face… But she sat up straight and picked it up in her small hands, looking determined.

"Oh, Cas, Ryn, please do something," Sam complained. "Are you really gonna let him corrupt her?"

Cas and Ryn exchanged a look.

"Dean can be responsible for her working off the sugar rush," Ryn said.

Amy tried to shove the burger in her mouth, but only got part of the top donut, and barely any of the patty.

Dean leaned back in his chair. "So, what do you think?"

She chewed thoughtfully before smiling. "I like it!"

Sam let out an exaggerated groan. "You're a horrible influence."

"Hey, she went jogging with you. It all balances out." Dean paused and quirked a brow at his niece. "What's with the flannel? And suddenly wanting to go jogging?"

"I want to do more stuff that you and Uncle Sam do," she replied. "So I can be a hunter when I grow up."

Dean couldn't help but stiffen. Deep down, he knew they probably should have expected this, but there was no way in hell they were gonna raise Amy to become a hunter.

"Whoa, kiddo," he said. "I'm flattered, really, but…you can be anything you want when you grow up. There's much better stuff out there than being a hunter."

She frowned at him. "But you're all hunters. And I want to be like you."

Oh, _hell_ no. This could not be happening. Dean shot a pleading look for help at Cas and Ryn.

Ryn had her mouth pursed thoughtfully. "It might be time to start some training."

Dean gaped at her in horror. "What?" he sputtered. "You can't be serious."

Amy clamored out of her chair. "Yes! I want to start training!"

Dean's mouth moved soundlessly in stupefaction. "Cas, come on."

Cas, at least, had a concerned pinch between his brows as he cast an uncertain look at Ryn.

"She's from a family of warriors," Ryn pointed out gently. "Of course she's going to grow up to be one." She turned to Amy. "I think we can sign you up for karate lessons."

"Really?" Amy exclaimed. "That'd be awesome!"

"Isn't she a little young for that?" Dean protested, still trying to grasp at putting the brakes on this.

"They offer classes for kids younger than her," Ryn replied. "Besides, I think it'll be good for her to also meet some kids her own age."

"Um, are you sure?" Sam spoke up. "I mean, is it really safe to be around…you know."

"Exactly," Dean seconded. Amy had no experience blending in with humans.

"I know I have to be careful around people," Amy put in earnestly. "Most don't know about magic and monsters, so no talking about that stuff. And no flying in front of anyone." She turned to Cas. "But no flying on my own, anyway."

Cas continued to look torn, but at an encouraging look from Ryn, he swallowed hard and gave a slow nod. "If this is something you really want to do…"

"Yes!" she squealed, and ran over to hug him. "Thank you! This is gonna be awesome!"

Awesome, right. Dean ran a hand over his face, his appetite suddenly doused. He was not thrilled with this, _at all_. But…karate was something normal kids did. And okay, maybe it would be good—would be _normal_ —for Amy to interact with her own peers. It wasn't like Ryn had proposed they set up a personalized training regimen with guns, rock salt, and machetes, not like John had done with Dean. Maybe he was overreacting.

"When can I start?" Amy asked.

"I'll start searching for local karate schools later today," Ryn promised.

Grinning with excitement, Amy gave her mom a hug, and then took off toward the dormitory wing, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

"I guess I forget she's gonna grow up to be this powerful, immortal being," Sam spoke up quietly. "And doesn't really need us protecting her so much."

Yeah, all Dean always saw was his adorable little niece.

Ryn gave the three men sympathetic looks. "I love that you're all so protective of her. But yes, one day she will grow up. And I can't think of better role models for that future."

Dean's cheeks warmed, and he ducked his gaze. He might have had a few protests to that, but he didn't voice them aloud. Guess there were some things he'd just have to get used to.

But, in the end, Amy did have good people looking after her. Whatever future she chose for herself, she would do amazing things.


	15. Little Angel

**A/N: Forgive my Enochian. I am not hardcore enough to quibble over grammar.**

* * *

"Little Angel"

" _Abramg adgmrch cnila conisbra_ ," Amala enunciated as she read from the Enochian text.

"Good," Castiel said, sitting beside her at the study table. She was picking up the language of angels as well as she had Latin, Greek, and Aramaic.

Amala leaned back in her seat with a sigh. "Speaking Enochian feels like I have a frog in my throat. Can't I just learn how to read it?"

Castiel frowned. He supposed his native tongue did lose some of its melody when pronounced with mortal mouths. There were notes that just couldn't be conveyed outside the vibrato of celestial wavelengths.

"There are many useful spells in Enochian," he replied. "And learning how to speak the language will be key to casting them. Besides, you're doing very well."

"Can't the same spells be cast in Latin?" Amala asked.

"They won't hold the same power. Or they'd need more ingredients, some that are closer to black magic," Castiel explained. "Enochian is better for many things."

There was a flutter of wingbeats and suddenly Gabriel was standing in the middle of the bunker library. "Hey, kids," he greeted.

Castiel suppressed an eye roll. Even he had learned after all this time how to use a door.

"Uncle Gabriel!" Amala exclaimed, clambering out of her chair to run around and give the archangel a hug.

Gabriel squeezed back, then swept his gaze over the books on the table. "In the middle of a lesson, I see. Looks like I came at the perfect time."

Castiel stood up. Since Gabriel rarely found time to get away from Heaven, he wouldn't begrudge his brother's untimely intrusion. "It's alright. I think that's enough Enochian for today."

"Enochian, huh?" Gabriel's eyes sparked with interest. " _Ds ivmd a drilpa_?" he asked Amala.

Castiel just shook his head in fond exasperation.

Amala canted her head up at Gabriel. "Um…"

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. "Um? There's only one correct answer here."

Amala nipped at her bottom lip. "Uh, you're the greatest?"

"Of course I am!"

She let out a huff. "Enochian takes too long to say."

"There's beauty in taking time to share one's thoughts," Castiel interjected, wishing he could convince his daughter to love the language the way he did. There were certainly many jokes that were funnier in Enochian.

Amala pursed her mouth and shook her head. "Not if it takes forever. Like the Ents at the big meeting before they decided to go to war against Saruman."

"I can think of a very good use for Enochian," Gabriel interjected. "Going to Heaven and meeting the angels!"

Castiel blinked dumbly at his brother, unable for a moment to comprehend what had just been said.

"What, really?" Amala exclaimed.

"Yeah!" Gabriel grinned. "It'd be a great little trip. Meet the extended family, see where your dad grew up. It'll be fun!"

"Gabriel," Castiel sputtered under his breath. "You can't be serious."

There was _no way_ Castiel was going to let Amala anywhere near Heaven or the other angels, not after they had declared war on him and the Winchesters when Ryn had been pregnant, believing the child of a phoenix and an angel to be an abomination. Only an act of God himself had stopped the Heavenly Host from smiting them all, and Gabriel's presence afterward kept them in check. But Castiel didn't want his daughter anywhere near the ones who had tried to murder her before she'd even been born. He'd accepted a long time ago that the angels weren't his family anymore. Present archangel excluded.

Gabriel scoffed. "Of course I'm serious. Amy's half angel; she should see Heaven."

"No."

"Please, Dad?" Amala begged. "We've never been there!"

"Yeah, come on, Dad," Gabriel wheedled.

Castiel grabbed Gabriel's arm and dragged him toward the other side of the room. "You know why we've stayed away," he said darkly.

Gabriel's expression sobered, and he replied in an equally low voice, "I know. And I get it. But I think it's time the rest of the family saw first-hand why they were wrong before. Come on, Cas, no one who meets her is gonna be able to resist falling in love." His eyes softened. "I want you to feel welcome in your own home."

"This is my home."

"So is Heaven. And need I remind you that there are two mortals with suite reservations in the far distant future? You really think you can go for eternity without seeing them again?"

Castiel's jaw tightened. He was not happy about this, at all. But dammit, Gabriel had a point. "If I have fences to mend in Heaven, my daughter doesn't need to be a part of it. I will not endanger her."

"The fences aren't for _you_ to mend," Gabriel countered. "And do you really think I'd be suggesting this if there was even the slightest risk? I personally guarantee both your safety. And trust me, I've had a while to whip Heaven into shape. No one would dare disobey me on this."

Castiel's stomach cramped at the thought of taking Amala up to Heaven. And yet, if it could give him some extra peace of mind, seeing for himself that the angels truly didn't mean them any harm…perhaps it would be worth it. And he knew Sam and Dean would be crushed if they realized they'd never be able to see their niece again after their souls eventually went to Heaven.

"Alright," he said grudgingly.

Gabriel gave him a sympathetic look. "It'll be fine. I promise." He turned back to Amala, who was biting at her lip anxiously, and clapped his hands together. "All aboard the express train to Heaven!"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes!"

Castiel tried to take a calming breath as he walked back over to her and held out his hand for her to take. Gabriel came over and took her other hand in his. Castiel felt marginally better with her safely between the two of them.

Gabriel grinned. "Next stop, the Pearly Gates!"

They took flight, arriving in Heaven a moment later. Gabriel had guided them toward the outer chamber of the Great Hall, one of the few places that wasn't merely sterile white walls and plain doors, but had actual marble pillars and milky white floors. There was already a group of angels assembled, and Castiel couldn't help but stiffen as their eyes turned his way. Pinched expressions greeted them, as though Gabriel had stuffed something sour in each of the angels' mouths and forced them to suck on it.

"Hey, folks," Gabriel said glibly. "Look who dropped in for a visit."

Amala was gazing around the chamber in wonder, and started to twist away to get a full view, but Castiel held tightly to her hand. She tried to tug free, but he refused to let go for even a second, his wings twitching with the preparation to fly if needed.

"This is Amala," Gabriel continued as though everything were perfectly normal. "The first fledgling Heaven's had in a very long while."

"That's not—" someone started, but Gabriel skewered him with such a sharp look that he immediately snapped his mouth closed.

"Amala," the archangel said casually. "Why don't you show these nice people your wings?"

She glanced at Castiel in question, having been taught to always keep her wings on the ethereal plane. Castiel was a knot of tension, but he gave a slow nod, not entirely sure of Gabriel's point here, but willing to trust him for the moment.

Amala's face scrunched up in concentration, and then the air behind her wavered as black silhouettes flickered first, then solidified into dark wings. There was a gasp from someone in the crowd.

Amala's wings fluttered, iridescent rivulets of rich plum and mulberry shimmering through the feathers.

Gabriel manifested his wings with an eye blink, great arching spans of dark and light browns with golden glints throughout the plumage. "Hey, you're growing!" he exclaimed.

Amala broke into a wide grin, dancing eyes taking in Gabriel's wings. "Will my wings grow as big as yours?"

"We-ll," he hedged. "I don't know if they'll get as _big_ as an archangel's, but they'll definitely be magnificent."

Castiel shifted his weight nervously, not liking the narrowed gazes the other angels were targeting his daughter with.

But then someone was nudging their way forward from the back, and Castiel's jaw slackened in surprise as Joshua parted a path to the front. The aged angel took several steps toward them and slowly bent down to one knee in front of Amala.

"Hello, little one," he said, and only the fact that Joshua was considered wise among the angels kept Castiel from yanking his daughter behind him. He still didn't let go of her hand, though. "I'm Joshua."

"I'm Amala. Or you can call me Amy like Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean do."

Joshua smiled. "That's a pretty name."

Amala canted her head at his brown-stained coveralls. "Is there dirt in Heaven?"

His lips twitched. "Yes. I'm Heaven's gardener."

Her face lit up with interest. "Can we see the garden? Does it have the same types of plants and flowers as Earth, or are there species only found in Heaven?"

Joshua flicked a smile up at Castiel before returning his attention to her. "Those are very good questions." He straightened. "Let's go see."

Amala shot Castiel an exasperated look when he still didn't release her hand, so he moved to follow them, still casting wary glances at the other angels. With Joshua's approval, though, some of their hostility was beginning to shift to confusion and uncertainty. It was progress, he supposed.

Some of the angels trailed after them toward the garden, though kept a bit of their distance. Castiel caught snippets of curious murmurs rather than hateful remarks.

Gabriel leaned in toward his ear. "Chill out, Cas."

He gritted his teeth, but finally forced himself to let go of Amala's hand so she could run around Joshua's garden, looking at the various plant life. A lot did resemble that found on Earth, though there were some celestial varieties only found in Heaven. She was particularly fascinated with those, having never seen them before.

Very gradually, some of the other angels began to cautiously approach and begin talking with her. Her intelligent responses seemed to surprise them, while her innocent and pure demeanor slowly started to draw small smiles from those brave enough to interact with her.

"Told ya," Gabriel said in his ear.

Castiel finally found himself beginning to relax. And as the angels took turns coming and going to introduce themselves to Amala, they started sparing him softened expressions as well.

After a while, Castiel cast his gaze around those still gathering. He swallowed. "Where's Hannah?" he asked quietly.

Gabriel sighed. "She thought it best she didn't come. She's…ashamed."

Castiel didn't say anything. He had counted her such a close friend…but the things that had happened between them still elicited a reflexive shudder. Perhaps her absence was for the best right now.

Castiel drew in a sharp breath. "There's someone I'd like to check on while I'm here," he said, anxiety tightening around his chest again. "Will you watch Amala for me?"

"Of course." Gabriel's brow furrowed in curiosity, but he didn't ask. "And for the love of John, would you please _relax_? Everything's fine here."

Castiel nodded stiffly as he watched Amala laugh at something another angel had said. Joshua was sticking close this entire time, and Castiel felt he could trust the Gardener and Gabriel to keep his daughter safe.

He left the garden and made his way down the monochromatic halls until he finally came to one particular personal Heaven. Castiel knocked before opening the door, and stepped into a room he hadn't seen in many, many years. A grizzly man in a ball cap looked up from a magazine in surprise, expression slackening in dismay.

Castiel gave him a nod in greeting. "Hello."

Bobby Singer rose to his feet, dropping the magazine on the cushion behind him. "Well, I'll be," he breathed.

Castiel roved his gaze around the living room of the hunter's old house before returning to the man. "Are you well?"

Bobby shrugged. "Can't complain. Got my beer and the classics to read."

So Castiel could see.

"I heard what you did for me, helping break Metatron out of Heaven's jail so the Winchesters could find my stolen grace." He hesitated. "You didn't suffer for it, did you?"

"Nah. The halos never even found out."

Castiel relaxed a fraction. "I'm glad. I wanted to thank you, for what you did. I'm sorry it's taken me this long, but this is the first time I've been back to Heaven since then."

Bobby's eyes widened in alarm. "Sam and Dean, they aren't…?"

"No," Castiel quickly assured him, guessing the direction of his thoughts. "They're still alive. Still hunting."

"Any catastrophes going on?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

Castiel smirked. "Not at present. They're doing well. Both of them."

Bobby looked relieved. "You seem all right yourself."

"I got my grace back."

The hunter's brow furrowed in consideration. "It's more than that. You look different."

Castiel quirked a small smile. "A lot has changed. I've changed. But for the better."

The door suddenly opened behind him.

"Knock-knock!" Gabriel announced as he came in with Amala, both of their wings put away.

Castiel lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "You were supposed to wait in the garden."

"I thought the little squirt would want to meet Grandpa Bobby," Gabriel replied.

Bobby's brows shot upward. "Excuse me?"

The archangel waved a dismissive hand. "You're right, that's technically not accurate. It'd be Great Uncle Bobby. Amy, say hi."

"Hi," she said.

Bobby just gaped at her dubiously, then at Gabriel and Castiel. "Someone want to explain?"

Castiel held an arm out for Amala to come to his side. "Bobby, this is Amala. My daughter."

The hunter's eyes rounded. "Y- _your_ …?"

"Yes. I believe you met her mother once before, when you helped her and Sam with Metatron."

Bobby's mouth moved soundlessly for several moments before finally finding words. "You're joshin' me."

Castiel squinted at him. "Um, no…"

"I have a lot of uncles," Amala said.

Gabriel barked out a laugh. "That you do. But they're all awesome. Bobby Singer here raised your uncles Sam and Dean."

Amala canted her head at the older man. "Oh yeah! I've seen pictures of you."

Bobby looked taken aback, but quickly recovered enough to give her a warm smile. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, little lady." He flicked a glance at Castiel. "Uncles Sam and Dean, huh?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

Bobby's expression smoothed into a genuine look of joy. "That's good." He nodded to himself. "That's real good."

Castiel smiled back. Turned out this trip to Heaven wasn't such a bad thing after all.

He and Gabriel waited by the door while Bobby showed Amala around his personal heaven, pointing out old photographs of Sam and Dean, and, Castiel was surprised to find, even one that had him in it.

"Dad never changes his coat," Amala laughed.

Bobby shot Castiel an amused grin.

Gabriel bumped his shoulder. "Who was right all along?"

Castiel let out an exaggerated sigh and muttered, "Fine, you were."

His brother grinned.

A short while later, it was time to go.

"Would you like me to tell Sam and Dean anything?" Castiel asked as they got ready to leave.

Bobby furrowed his brow. "Uh, just tell 'em I think about them every day, and I'm glad to hear they're doing well. And that I'm proud of them."

"I will."

"And I hope you'll visit again," Bobby added, giving Amala a genuine smile. "Seeing as how I now have a great niece and all."

Castiel's lips tugged upward as he nodded. "I think we can do that."

He gestured for Amala to follow Gabriel out.

"And Cas," Bobby spoke up as he was about to cross the threshold. "I'm proud of you, too, son."

Castiel blinked at the hunter in surprise, for the offered sentiment and at how much it meant to him in at that moment. He had never appreciated the man's role as a surrogate father to the boys Bobby had taken under his wing when he'd been alive, but looking back, it wasn't just Sam and Dean who he'd done that for. In the short time they had known each other, Robert Singer had given Castiel more consideration than his own father ever had. And it meant the world to him.

Castiel slowly nodded in return. Heaven was still his home after all, but not because it was where he was created or where angels belonged. But because of the family who resided there.

That had always been the heart of home for Castiel, anyway.


	16. Camping Trip

**A/N: Requested by Ragen on Ao3. Also, I'm going to post next week's chapter for this on Tuesday since it'll be a Halloween one.**

* * *

"Camping Trip"

The Impala's tires juddered over the dirt road as Dean guided it toward the campsite he'd scouted out and picked for this weekend trip with Sam and Amy. It was Cas and Ryn's anniversary of when they met—the first time, not the time Cas had to get all his memories of her back—and Dean and Sam had decided the two should have a romantic weekend in the bunker to themselves. Dean was kind of getting the hang of camping, too, so it seemed like a good plan.

He slowed the car to a stop and shut off the engine. "Here we are."

A meadow stretched out before them, butting up against the woods on one side and spilling into a ravine on the other. There wouldn't be any fishing out here, but that was alright; Dean had packed a cooler full of food. And coffee.

Amy climbed out of the backseat, Dean and Sam following suit. They immediately set about making camp at the tree line. Sam pitched the tent while Amy helped, and Dean started unpacking the gear. Soon they were settled and Amy took her camera to go photograph wildflowers. Dean braced his hands on his hips and inhaled deeply of the fresh air. It was still sometimes hard to believe they were able to enjoy this kind of stuff at all. Camping with their dad always meant a wendigo hunt, and Dean had never envisioned himself doing any differently.

Sam headed out into the meadow after Amy and Dean heard them start identifying various flower species together. Nerds.

He turned back to their camp and scanned the area around the trees. Finding a decent chunk of wood, Dean picked it up and then sat down with his knife to start carving. It was a hobby he'd decided to try out not too long ago. He wasn't naturally talented or anything, but he'd looked up some videos on YouTube and had been practicing. He could make simple, decent carvings now. A bird. A cat. And who knows, maybe over time he'd be able to eventually make something crazy detailed like he saw in some of those videos.

But for now, it just felt good to hone his skill of wielding a blade into something productive and creative, something where in the end he wound up with a product he could be proud of. Something that was beautiful instead of horrific.

Amy suddenly let out a high-pitched squeal, and Dean looked up to find her nearly getting swallowed by Sam as he tickled her mercilessly. She broke free, though, and started running back toward camp. Sam gave chase.

"Argh, I'm gonna get you!" he rumbled in his 'monster' voice.

Amy shrieked again. "Uncle Dean, save me!"

She darted over, and he quickly stashed his knife under the log he'd been sitting on before picking up a long stick. Sam came galumphing toward them, and Dean slashed the branch through the air.

"Alright, back you Abominable Sasquatch." He swatted at his brother.

Sam ducked under his next swing and tackled him, driving him to the ground with an 'oof.' Amy laughed shrilly as they rolled around in the dirt, wrestling.

"The Tickle Monster is victorious again!" Sam crowed.

Dean hooked a leg around Sam's and knocked him flat on his ass. Sam grunted from the impact, dazed for a moment. Dean twisted around and grabbed Amy, dragging her down on top of them. The air nearly punched from his lungs, because she was getting kind of heavy for this, but she screamed and howled with laughter to the point of tears as both uncles turned their relentless tickling machinations on her.

It wasn't long before Dean's own sides were splitting and he stopped, collapsing back onto the ground with wheezing laughs. He felt something brush under his nose, and rubbed at it. Then again, almost making him sneeze. He bolted upright again and glared at Amy.

"Did you just stick a feather in my nose?"

She lifted a chin smugly at him. "May-be."

Dean pushed her off. "Okay, you've been spending too much time with Gabriel."

"You're way bigger than me! I have to come up with some way to fight fair."

Dean shook his head as he got to his feet. Sam was still grinning where he lay sprawled on the ground.

"You better not have smashed that camera," Dean warned.

"Nah, Amy put it down first."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna fall for _that_ again!" she snipped as she made her way back out into the meadow to retrieve it.

Dean picked up the carving he'd started and put it and the knife away so he could start dinner. They grilled hot dogs in a gas skillet, and then afterward built a campfire so they could roast marshmallows for s'mores. Amy ended up with sticky fingers, while Dean simply popped the whole graham cracker-chocolate-marshmallow conglomeration in his mouth. Of course, that meant he couldn't respond when Sam started ribbing him for resembling a chipmunk.

As dusk descended and the embers from the fire smoldered deep red, Sam unzipped one of the sleeping bags to use as a blanket, and Amy went over to sit on his lap so he could bundle her up with him. They leaned back and gazed up at the stars.

"That's Cetus," Amy said, pointing up at one of the constellations. "The sea dragon. I think it looks more like a sea horse, though."

Sam canted his head. "How about a leafy sea dragon? Those stars around it can be like its camouflage."

Amy seemed to consider that for a moment. "I like that!"

Dean shook his head to himself. She had gotten her love of stargazing from her parents. He smirked; actually, knowing Cas and Ryn, they were probably out right now looking at those same stars.

Dean picked up his carving again and started whittling at it some more. He wasn't sure what he was going to make of it yet, but then, he'd learned to enjoy the journey and surprises along the way.


	17. Happy Halloween

**A/N: Posting this today instead of tomorrow, just because it's only a day off and season appropriate. Happy Halloween everyone! ^_^**

* * *

"Happy Halloween"

"This is gross."

Charlie, Sam, and Dean all looked over to where Amy was scooping the innards out of her pumpkin to carve, her face scrunched up as she deposited the glop of mush on a large paper plate.

"All part of the Halloween fun," Charlie replied cheerily, though she had to admit the consistency of pumpkin guts _was_ pretty disgusting.

Sam and Dean had disemboweled theirs pretty quickly, and Charlie didn't want to think about how they'd probably had practice… She quickly diverted that train of thought and curiously peeked over to see what Dean was carving. He was being very meticulous about it.

"Wow. Is that a forest background?" It definitely wasn't the triangle eyes and jagged mouth she'd been expecting.

Dean straightened. "Yeah." His attention was pretty focused, so Charlie simply exchanged a grin with Sam before returning to her own pumpkin.

She had brought stencils for carving if anyone wanted them, though Sam had already said he was gonna opt for the traditional jack-o-lantern face. Amy had picked a stencil with a cat peeking out from a pumpkin, and Charlie was going to carve a witch flying on a broomstick. The entire study area was a mess of plastic sheeting to protect the tables and floor as they'd commandeered and converted it into a jack-o-lantern craft barn.

Sam finished his first and started cleaning up. He also got out the tea light candles they'd be putting inside their creations.

"Done!" Amy declared.

He went over to see. "That looks great!" he said with a beaming smile.

Charlie leaned over and nodded appreciatively. She was almost finished with hers too. After one more section, she set hers aside and stood up to stretch. Dean was still working on his.

Ryn came out from the back hallway then. She'd been making some fitting adjustments to the costumes Charlie had brought, but hadn't wanted to work out here and risk pumpkin goop getting on the clothes.

"Hey," she said. "These look great. You guys all done and ready to get cleaned up? The costumes are ready."

Amy slid out of her chair. "I am!" She headed for the hall.

Sam furrowed his brow. "What costumes are these exactly? You haven't said."

Charlie smirked. "Relax, there's none for you two."

Dean finally looked up from his carving. "There's not?"

Charlie had to roll her eyes at how relieved he sounded. "No. You get a pass this year. But only because I found a theme that doesn't require you."

Sam quirked a confused look at her. "What theme is that?"

"You'll see."

With that, she turned on her heel and headed toward the dormitory wing with Ryn. Charlie stopped in the bathroom to wash up, and then joined Ryn and Amy in one of the bedrooms where the costumes were laid out on the bed.

"So are these as true to the period as the costume designer for the movie said they were?" Charlie asked curiously.

"More or less," Ryn replied, passing Amy a leather dress with a gold filigree belt and golden sash shoulder sleeves.

Charlie paused, mouth twitching. "Did you ever wear anything like this back then?"

"Mm, sometimes."

"That is so hot."

Ryn rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Charlie grinned deviously. "You should save the get-up for later tonight with a certain someone."

Ryn laughed. "That certain someone doesn't quite grasp the concept of role play."

"Are you talking about how Dad never dresses up for Halloween?" Amy asked.

Charlie shot Ryn a cringing look of apology. Whoops. Not the topic for young ears.

"Yes," Ryn replied simply, helping straighten out Amy's dress.

"Where is Cas?" Charlie asked, noting the angel's conspicuous absence.

"Out saving black cats," Ryn said.

"Huh?"

"People are mean to black cats on Halloween," Amy explained. "Dad goes out and rescues them."

Charlie blinked. "Oh. That is the most adorable thing in the world."

She started changing into her costume of overlapping bands of leather, though in this case they were the cheaper kind, not the heavy stuff actual armor was made out of. Ryn helped put a set of vambraces on Amy's forearms, then proceeded to get into her own costume. After that, she tied part of Amy's hair back and Charlie braided her own. Ryn had already done hers up in a plait across the top of her head. All that was left were the finishing touches of a few more vambraces and the leather strap boots.

"We look amazing," Charlie declared.

They headed back out to the study area, which was looking a lot less pumpkin slaughter house and more back to normal. Dean had even finished his carving. Both his and Sam's brows rose sharply at their entrance.

"Wow," Sam said.

Charlie beamed. She tapped Amy's shoulder. "Give them a little spin."

She did, grinning widely.

"I feel like I should know this," Dean said, studying them carefully.

Sam snorted. "Dude, you liked Wonder Woman."

"Oh yeah." He looked at Amy. "I guess that makes you little Diana."

"Yup!"

Dean's eyes glinted mischievously. "Wasn't she a princess?"

"A _warrior_ princess," Amy emphasized.

"Uh-huh." He grinned.

Sam nodded in understanding. "And you didn't need us to dress up because—"

"Because the Amazons don't need men," Charlie finished.

"Right."

"We're heading into town for some trick-or-treating," Ryn said. "We'll be back in an hour or so."

"Have fun," Sam replied.

Dean walked them to the stairs, carrying his jack-o-lantern, which was one of the most fanciest things done free hand that Charlie had ever seen. He'd carved a wolf at the bottom near the edge of the forest, howling at a moon diagonally across from it. He set it on one of the steps; he and Sam had placed all the pumpkins with lit lights ascending the staircase. It was marvelous.

Charlie drove Ryn and Amy into town to a local church. Because the town was so small and spread out, the community got together for what they called "Trunk-and-Treat" instead, where people gathered in the church parking lot to pass out candy from the trunks of their vehicles. It was a safe place for all the kids to congregate and still get Halloween treats.

And the event wasn't as low-key and lame as it could have been. People really got into the Halloween spirit, decorating their cars with spider webs or jack-o-lanterns on the asphalt. Some people even pitched canopy tents around their trunks, creating little mini haunted houses kids had to step into to get their candy. Charlie was digging the whole thing.

They got lots of compliments for their costumes, which made Charlie beam proudly. Most of the adults who set up their vehicles for handing out candy had dressed up too, which just made the whole atmosphere that much better.

Amy came darting over with a brown paper bag in addition to her pillow case for sweets. "Someone was giving out deep-fried Oreos!"

Ryn's brows rose dubiously. "Um, okay."

"I got some for Uncle Dean."

Ryn shook her head. "I don't know whose health I'm supposed to be protecting more."

Charlie chuckled.

"Do you want some candy, Aunt Charlie?" Amy asked, opening her pillow case wide.

"Hm, anything with peanut butter?"

Amy peered inside. "Reeses shaped like pumpkins?"

"Ooh, perfect. Thanks." She picked out the piece of candy and started to unwrap it.

Amy grinned and fished out a mini Milky Way.

Charlie sighed happily as the chocolate melted in her mouth. She loved Halloween.


	18. Catching Lightning

**A/N: I realized I've been writing a lot of Amy with her uncles, which I love, but I should probably try to balance it out with more Cas and Amy, so here's one! And it's a shorter fic, but I figure that's okay because I've posted a lengthy one shot today also.**

* * *

"Catching Lightning"

Castiel stood on a sandy beach, wind whipping around the ends of his trench coat. The air was heavy with electricity and warm moisture, the sky a dark, pewter gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Amala stayed close to his side, posture tense with anticipation. A flash of light shimmered through the clouds. Four seconds later, the heavens cracked and roared. Amala flinched, but there was excitement in her eyes.

Castiel could feel the high pressure system roiling closer, the combination of hot and cold air igniting into plasma. This time lightning splintered across the sky with a snap, and the resulting thunder was immediate and booming enough to startle the eardrums. Static prickled the back of Castiel's neck and along his feathers. He'd told Amala to keep her wings tucked in.

Back when the Earth was first being formed, when God had mashed matter together with extreme pressure and massive collisions, there had been a flurry of constant storms from the explosion of energies. Most of the angels had watched from above as spider webs of electricity had flickered through the clouds and smoke, but a few had ventured down to the surface. Castiel had marveled at the roiling brume of slate sky and silver sea, connected by a vast nexus of crackling gateways. The closest display of divine power this mortal realm would ever glimpse.

Amala was both terrified and captivated by thunder and lightning storms. Which was good. Awesome power should be revered. For one day she would grow up to wield it.

But for now, Castiel would share this moment with her, as spectators of a marvel few beings could weather.

Amala pressed herself against him, simultaneously seeking shelter while still craning her head around in wide-eyed wonder. Castiel dropped his arms over her shoulders and held her in front of him, curving his incorporeal wings around the sides just enough to offer some buffer against the gales. They stood like that, waiting, poised on pins and needles.

Lightning forked down from the heavens and struck the beach several yards away. Amala let out a small gasp and jumped, but Castiel held her close. The thunderclap rattled their rib cages. Burnt ozone fizzled on the air.

And then it was like a duel of the thunder gods above their heads—whip cracks lashing to and fro across the sky. Two offshoots collided with overlapping thunderbolts. Castiel stood firm underneath the onslaught, a moored sentinel in the face of Nature's awesome prowess.

And just as suddenly as it had ignited, the battle ceased.

Castiel could feel Amala holding her breath, yet lightning didn't strike again. Several long moments passed before a smaller shoot arched down across the water a ways out. The peal of thunder reverberated with less shock. Amala shivered.

Castiel finally moved; the storm was migrating away now. He guided Amala across the beach toward where the lightning had hit land. There was a hole in the sand, surrounded by dark gray streaks that branched out in what looked like petrified lightning. Castiel knelt down and began to push some of the surrounding sand away.

Just beneath the surface were calcified shoots with speckles of teal. Castiel gingerly worked it free until he had a five-pronged chunk of silica glass encased in a coarse, bubbly shell of fulgurite.

"Wow," Amala breathed, crouched beside him.

Castiel passed it over so she could hold it. While she admired that piece, he dug out more from under the sand, and carefully chipped away at the porous husk to reveal the more crystalline structure inside. If he refined it a bit, it would make a nice centerpiece in the bunker.

Amala looked up to grin widely at him. "We're catching lightning."

Castiel canted his head in contemplation. He knew the phrase 'like catching lightning in a bottle' meant something was impossible. But if someone had told him years ago that his life would have come to this point, he would have said exactly that—impossible.

Castiel smiled back at his daughter. "Yes, we are."


	19. Legacy

**A/N: Requested by Miyth. Because while these shorts are sweet and fluffy, there are still life lessons for little Amala to learn in this safe and loving environment she's being raised in. =)**

* * *

"Legacy"

Sam leaned back in the study chair with a gaping yawn, the pages of the lore book he was reading momentarily blurring under the assault. He should probably hit the sack soon. A glance at his phone showed it wasn't even midnight. Jeez, he was getting old when 11pm started feeling late.

The bunker door grated open loudly, and Sam frowned; the others weren't due back from their hunt tonight.

"Sam!" Dean's harried voice shouted.

He lurched from his chair and sprinted into the war room, eyes widening as he saw Dean and Ryn helping Cas limp down the staircase, a bloody tourniquet cinched around the angel's stomach.

"What happened?" he exclaimed.

"That mishipeshi bastard was able to shoot its spiked tail like Sonic the friggin' Hedgehog."

"Mishipeshu," Cas corrected with a grunt. "And it's not that bad." His assertion was immediately belied by a pained grimace, though, so Sam was not reassured.

"He was shish-kebabbed and he says it's not that bad," Dean growled as they finally made it down the steps.

"It looks worse than it is," Ryn put in pragmatically. "His healing is just being delayed by the poison."

"Poison?" Sam sputtered, exchanging an alarmed look with his brother. Dean just gave him an exasperated glower in return, clearly not buying the two supernatural beings' calmness in the matter.

"It's blocking my grace," Cas ground out between strained breaths. "But I _am_ healing. Just, much slower than usual." He winced with his next stumbling step.

Sam hurried back into the study area and pulled out a chair for Dean and Ryn to help Cas into. "What do we do?"

Dean knelt down in front of the wounded angel and started picking at the tourniquet to get a look underneath. He huffed out a frustrated sound. "Yeah, it looks smaller than before. But, dude, if you're not healing, you need stitches."

Cas's face scrunched up in displeasure. "I'm sure my grace will recover soon enough."

Ryn pursed her mouth as she, too, leaned over and studied the wound. "I'm with Dean on this one, Cas."

"Finally," Dean muttered.

"It would help if you stopped bleeding over everything," Ryn continued.

Cas let out a chagrined sigh and started to roll his eyes, but then suddenly stiffened. "Amala."

Sam quirked a confused brow. What about her? He turned to follow Cas's gaze, and straightened abruptly when he spotted Amy standing in her pjs in the hallway, wide eyes watching them.

Cas tried to angle himself away and sit up straighter. "I don't want her to see this," he said under his breath and with a hint of desperation.

"I got it," Sam said hurriedly, and quickly turned to stride over to her. She was apparently frozen in place as he reached her and scooped her up in one swift movement, carrying her back down the hall toward her bedroom. Cas wasn't dying and just needed patching up; Dean and Ryn could handle it.

"What's wrong with Dad?" Amy asked, twisting in Sam's arms to look back over his shoulder.

"He's fine," Sam assured her, sweeping into her room and closing the door behind them. He then set her on the unmade bed.

She gazed up at him with frightened eyes. "Was that blood?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't want to outright lie to her. "Yeah, he got a little hurt on this last hunt. But your mom and Uncle Dean are gonna fix him up good as new."

Amy continued to stare at him in something like shock. "But…you never get hurt on hunts."

Sam grimaced. Crap. He supposed it was inevitable this would happen eventually. "Actually, we do. It…kinda comes with the job when you're dealing with monsters."

Her bottom lip quivered as she whispered, "Do you get hurt a lot?"

His heart broke at the devastated look on her face, and he took a seat on the bed next to her and pulled her into a side hug. "Yeah. Hunting can be dangerous sometimes. We just always tried to keep you from seeing any of that, so your dad has always healed us before we came home."

Amy pulled back to look up at him with wavering eyes. "Then who heals him?"

Sam winced. There was the rub—the angel could heal them all the time, but they couldn't do the same for him. And Cas usually healed up on his own, anyway. Ryn, also, had her regenerating fire if she ever took a hit. This time, though, the monster they'd been hunting wasn't minor, and Cas couldn't heal himself as quickly as normal.

"Unfortunately, we don't have the power to magically heal like an angel does," Sam admitted. "But your dad's gonna be fine, I promise. I know it looked scary, but he's tough. It would take a lot more than that monster to really hurt him. He just needs to rest for a little while."

Amy bit her lip and looked down at her lap for a long moment. Then she raised her head again. "Can I heal him?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it again. That…was actually an interesting thought. Amy had angelic grace inside her, after all, and there _was_ precedence for her using it to heal Cas, too, though she wouldn't remember, having not even been born yet at the time.

They'd never really worked on training her to use any of her supernatural powers; Sam assumed Cas and Ryn were just waiting until she was older. But there'd been that baby fox a while ago, and hadn't she mentioned healing its foot or something?

Maybe…maybe she could help Cas…

"Yeah," Sam said slowly. "I think that might be a really good idea."

She scampered off the bed and darted for the door, but Sam surged to his feet and intercepted her with two long strides.

"Whoa, hold on a second," he said, holding out his palms to try and curb her enthusiasm. "Let me go check on him first, okay?"

"Why?" she said, looking worried again.

"Just to make sure your mom and Uncle Dean have him all squared away," Sam hurried to reassure her. And that they'd think it would be a good idea. "I'll come back and get you when they're ready, okay?"

Amy nipped at her bottom lip, but nodded dejectedly. "Okay."

"Okay." Sam exited the bedroom and made his way down the hall to slip into Cas and Ryn's room, quick to shut the door behind him in case Amy tried to sneak a peek.

Cas was laid out on the bed, trench coat and suit jacket removed, remaining dress shirt unbuttoned and pushed out of the way to allow access to his exposed torso. Sam could see a golf-ball size hole in his stomach, and suddenly understood why Dean was so worked up over it, because no, it didn't matter if Cas would eventually heal, this was not okay.

Ryn was finishing up wiping away the blood while Dean was sitting in a chair by the bed threading a needle. Cas continued to look peeved over the situation, though his expression shifted when he saw Sam.

"Is she okay?" the angel immediately asked. "How much did she see?"

"Um, enough," Sam reluctantly replied. "But she's okay. Listen, your grace is being impeded by the poison, but another angel could heal you, right?"

Cas sighed. "Gabriel is far too busy to be bothered for something this trivial. Especially since I will recover on my own, in time."

"Actually, I was thinking about Amy."

Ryn paused in her ministrations to look over at him, as did Dean.

"What?" his brother said dubiously.

"She's half angel," Sam pointed out. "And remember when you were able to access her power to help heal Cas after Hannah and the angels tortured him?" he said to Ryn.

Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, and she turned back to Cas. "He's right."

Cas shook his head against the pillows. "She's too young. Her powers aren't fully developed yet."

"But she wants to try," Sam pressed. "And she's gonna have to sooner or later." He paused. "It was her idea, and I think she can handle it."

"Cas, come on," Dean pushed.

"I'm not dying."

"That's no reason for you to lie here in pain for however many days it's gonna take for your grace to recover."

Cas huffed out a frustrated sound as he swept an irritated look around at the three of them, clearly seeing he was outnumbered. He started to push himself up straighter, which only served to screw his face up as it tugged at his wound. "Alright," he grunted. "But I need another shirt first. I don't want her seeing the blood."

"Fair enough," Sam said, eagerness perking him up. Yeah, Cas may not be dying, but none of them liked seeing him hurt. The angel could be such a martyr sometimes.

Ryn helped him out of his bloody shirt while Dean fetched another one from the closet. They then packed a temporary gauze pad over the wound, and Cas drew the coverlet up to conceal it.

"What if she doesn't have enough control of her powers for it to work?" he persisted. "I don't want her to be upset."

"She's as stubborn as you," Dean retorted. "It'll work."

Sam smirked, and seeing that they were finally ready, went back to fetch Amala.

She was sitting on her bed, but hopped off the moment Sam opened her door. "Can I see Dad?"

Sam held out his hand to take hers. "Yeah, come on."

He guided her down the hall to her parents' bedroom, slowing at the door to ease her into the room. For all intents and purposes, Cas looked like he was simply bundled up in bed with the flu—pallor slightly pasty and dark circles under his eyes. He tried to give his daughter a smile, though.

"Hi, sweetheart."

Amy cautiously approached the bed, gaze studying him. "Are you okay?" she asked timidly.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier."

Amy glanced back at Sam, then at her mom and Dean before looking back to Cas. "Uncle Sam says he can't heal angels. But I could, right?"

Cas flicked a guarded look at the rest of them, then reached out to touch her arm. The lines around his eyes crinkled in pain at the movement, though he hid it well. "Yes. You have grace, which can reach out to another angel's and heal them."

Amy gave a solemn nod. Despite having used her powers at least once before that they knew of, she looked nervous and uncertain now. Sam remembered when he'd been tasked with stitching up his brother and dad after a hunt, not even eleven years old at the time. Yeah, it was a lot of pressure.

Cas shifted, but had to stop and swallow back a groan. "Picture your grace deep down inside you," he said hoarsely. "Like a golden sphere, warm and soothing."

Amy sucked on her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut in intense concentration. But nothing seemed to be happening. Sam's chest tightened as he wondered whether maybe Cas was right, that Amy wasn't ready for this.

Ryn moved around the foot of the bed to come kneel down behind her, placing supportive hands on the girl's small shoulders. "Picture holding it in your arms like a little fuzzy creature."

Amy quirked a brow. "Like Kit?"

Ryn smiled. "Exactly. And this little ball of fuzzy grace is purring, making its golden light rise and fall with glowing pulses. Can you feel it?"

"Mhm-hmm."

Sam straightened as a golden aura began to suffuse through the room—Amy's tiny palms glowing with brilliant power.

"That's it," Ryn coaxed, taking Amy's arms and guiding them to settle over Cas's stomach. "It's warm, right? And gentle. Can you share that feeling with your dad's grace?"

Amy nodded, eyes closed in single-minded focus. Sam and Dean watched with bated breath as the angelic energy began to seep into Cas. His chest hitched slightly, and he closed his eyes whereas Amy opened hers to see what she was doing. Hers and Cas's faces were aglow with amber warmth, Amy's eyes lit like distant stars while color chased the shadows from Cas's complexion. He sank further into the mattress as the tension also loosed from his shoulders.

A few moments later, Amy dropped her hands to her sides, the light extinguishing. Cas opened his eyes and gazed at her in wonderment.

"Are you better now?" she asked tentatively.

Cas sat up all the way, all lines of pain erased from his features. "I am. Thanks to you."

Dean cleared his throat lightly and gave Cas a pointed look. Cas rolled his eyes, but pushed the coverlet down to expose his bandaged stomach, and then removed the gauze. No more gaping wound. Sam felt a giddy grin begin to creep onto his face.

Dean practically sagged in relief. "Way to go, kiddo," he beamed at Amy.

Amy smiled back, though there was an uncertain quaver in it, and when she looked back at Cas, her expression pinched. "Are you still going to go on dangerous hunts?"

Cas exchanged a sober look with the rest of them, and then shifted to reach out and draw Amy onto the bed beside him. "What we do…saving people—it's important. It's the right thing to do. But I don't want you to worry about any of us getting hurt, because your mom and uncles and me, we look after each other out there."

"Like you heal Uncle Sam and Dean."

Cas nodded. "Like that. But we also protect each other. I may have gotten hurt this time, but Uncle Dean was right there to fight the monster off before it could hurt me more. So was Mom."

Amy chewed on her lip for a moment. "And I can look after you, too." She stretched a hand out to touch his bare stomach, as though able to sense what had once marred the smooth skin there now. "If you get hurt again, I can heal you."

Cas gave her a soft smile, a mixture of pride and perhaps sadness, because Amala was growing up, was learning what the world outside was really like—harsh, dangerous, and full of peril.

"Yes," Cas said quietly, and wrapped his arms around her. "You can."

Sam's heart warmed at the sight. He'd never wanted to raise a child—any child—into the hunter's life. But somehow this was different. Because hunting wasn't about revenge or vendettas or simply slaying monsters. It was about saving people. It was about working as a team and having each other's backs. The family business.

…And that was a legacy worth passing down.


	20. Happy Thanksgiving

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the States! ^_^**

* * *

"Happy Thanksgiving"

Dean tossed a tiny marshmallow up into the air and watched it arc back down. Amy leaned forward on the barstool, head tilted back, and caught it in her mouth.

"Nice!" he said with an appreciative nod.

Amy grinned, and picked up a marshmallow to toss at him. Dean bent his knees in preparation, eyes on the target. She chucked it, and he jumped to catch it. The fluffy candy fell right into his mouth.

"And he scores!" he raved, arms up in a victorious touch-down gesture as he chewed the gooey bite. "Winchester for the win."

"We're tied!" Amy said indignantly.

"So we are. Okay, ready?" He reached for another marshmallow.

"You two are supposed to be putting those on the sweet potatoes," Ryn interjected pointedly, shooting him a wry look from where she was standing at the stove, stirring the pot of gravy.

Dean froze, then shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."

Ryn just shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips.

Dean turned back to Amy. "Okay, clock's ticking. We gotta have everything ready for dinner."

Amy nodded once fervently. "Got it."

"Can I count on you to finish putting the marshmallows on? I gotta get the turkey out of the oven."

Amy nodded again, and immediately set to picking out the marshmallows and carefully lining them up in rows across the already cooked sweet potatoes.

Dean headed for the oven. "No more snacking on those," he called over his shoulder, and heard her huff of exasperation. It only made him smile as he retrieved the oven mitts and opened the door to get the giant bird out.

He'd sure come a long way from Chinese take-out or those microwave turkey dinners. There'd been a time when a big Thanksgiving meal was frankly out of the question, either because he and Sam were on the road hunting, or because they just didn't do family style dinners. And now they did. And now Dean cooked cranberry sauce with his own tailored recipe and carved up turkey he'd stuffed and basted himself.

It helped having Ryn around, too. She'd picked up cooking rather quickly, and the two of them often took on the task of making meals together.

Ryn removed the gravy from the stove and turned the burner off, clearing a space for Dean to put the turkey. He hauled the bird out of the oven, a beautiful golden brown with slightly charred edges, and set it down, then grabbed the large silver platter they had for laying out the meat on.

"It's ready!" Amy declared.

Ryn went over and picked up the casserole dish of sweet potatoes to put in the oven now that another shelf was free. She took out the dinner rolls and set them on the island counter. "Can you put these in that basket, please?"

Amy nodded and started tossing the hot bread into the wicker basket. Every year they seemed to get a little more fancy with stuff. Dean was learning.

He ran the carving blades against each other a few times before angling them down into the succulent meat and cutting through. He deftly started separating out the dark and light meat, and tossing the bones and pure fat into the garbage can at his feet.

"Sammy! Get in here and start setting the table."

His brother shuffled in a few moments later, Cas behind him. "Oh wow, that smells amazing."

Dean secretly beamed at the compliment, and nodded to the bread basket and green bean casserole dish. "Those are ready to go out." He shifted as Ryn bent down beside him to check the oven and make sure the marshmallows weren't burning.

He tossed another piece of bone in the trash can, and noticed Kit had slunk in, nose high in the air and eyes wide as she regarded the garbage bin. Before Dean could say anything, the cat had scampered forward, put her paws up on the rim, and snatched a chunk of bony meat bigger than her face right out of the trash.

"Hey!" Dean snapped, but the cat was already hightailing it out of the kitchen. "Cas! Go get that back."

Cas blinked in confusion for a moment before he processed what had happened, and then he was sweeping out of the kitchen to track down the stupid feline before it choked on that thing.

Amy busted out laughing. "Kit thinks it smells good, too. Can't she have some turkey?"

"Not a whole leg," Dean grumbled.

"Sure," Ryn replied more amiably. "But on a plate. Don't feed her any under the table."

"Okay." Amy hopped off the stool and helped Sam start carrying stuff out into the war room where the map table had been dressed up for the occasion.

Cas came back in a few minutes later, Kit in one arm, the chunk of turkey bone in his other hand. "She was very displeased about giving it up," he informed them.

"Yeah, well, too bad. It's people food," Dean groused. "And not even people food, because people don't eat that part."

Cas angled his head down at the cat, who stared back up at him with a somewhat petulant expression. "I believe that's her point—you weren't going to eat it."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, here. What does she want, dark or light?" he snipped.

"Dark."

Dean paused. Wha…why did he even ask?

He grabbed a slice from the platter and cut it into several smaller pieces, then set it on a small paper plate that was nearby, and handed that to Cas. Dean jabbed a finger at Kit. "Stay out of my kitchen."

Cas's lips quirked, but he turned without saying anything and carried the cat and turkey treat out.

Dean finished carving up the rest of the bird while Ryn took the last items out of the oven. Thinking twice, Dean put what was left on the turkey back in the oven, though it was off, and then made sure to put the trash can in the cupboard under the sink. Sam came back, and the three of them brought the rest of their feast out to set on the table.

Amy was already seated and watching Kit gobble down the turkey while Cas stood watch over her, but as the rest of them came in, they all moved to take their seats.

Dean's mouth had been watering all day while he slaved away in the kitchen, and now he was going to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Cas cleared his throat. "I think before we start that we should all go around and say what we're thankful for."

Dean paused halfway to reaching for the dinner rolls. Aw, really?

"I'll go first!" Amy volunteered. "I'm thankful marshmallows go on sweet potatoes, because then I get to eat candy for dinner."

The adults chuckled and shook their heads in amusement.

Sam started when he realized he was sitting next to Amy, and it seemed only logical it be his turn next. He rolled his shoulders awkwardly. "Okay, uh, I'm thankful my brother is such a good cook, and that he and Ryn made this amazing meal for us."

Dean almost wanted to make a smart-alecky retort to that, but the sincerity in Sam's tone stopped him, and instead he just gave his brother a small smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ryn folded her hands on the table. "I'm thankful for this beautiful home, and the life we have here." She looked at Dean.

Oh, that made it his turn. "Well, uh, I'm thankful the world isn't ending."

Sam shot him a mild bitch-face.

"And that we're all together," he added.

There had been too many times when they weren't.

Cas smiled, and gradually shifted his gaze to each of them. "And I'm thankful for my family. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this, but I'm grateful every day." He looked at Amy and reached over to lovingly touch the back of her head.

They all shared smiles at that. Dean was thankful for this, too. And he also didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but here they were, and like Cas, he was gonna cherish it every single day for as long as he lived.


	21. The Hellhound Ate My Homework (Age 8-9)

**A/N: Just FYI for future requests, Amy seems to be getting older now. That was both intentional and not. Heh. I'd say she's around 8-9 at this point.**

* * *

"The Hellhound Ate My Homework"

Amala sat with her back against an oak, notebook propped up on her knees as she carefully wrote out a paragraph on lavender and its many uses according to whether it was fresh, dried, or extracted into an essential oil. That was just one of the many plants and herbs she had to include in this report, which was due at the end of the week.

She'd asked why she had to write one at all when there were resource books in the library that already had all the answers, and had been told that writing it out herself would help her remember for the future, and that resource books wouldn't always be available.

Remembering things wasn't actually that difficult for her, though there was often a lot of overlap with flowers and herbs, and she did struggle a little with keeping some things straight. Both lavender and eucalyptus had healing properties, but the root cause of the problem would determine which one should be used for treatment.

She didn't horribly mind this assignment. It was better than practicing Enochian conjugation, and it got her outside. Not only had she wanted a change of scenery and fresh air while working on her homework, she also wanted to see which herbs could be found growing near the bunker.

She had just finished filling the page and flipped the notebook over, when a man in a suit and red tie suddenly appeared in front of her. She instinctively jolted, clutching her pencil as though she could possibly wield it as a weapon. Though he looked human on the outside, she could see a crimson aura seeping around his edges, and a black void where his heart should be. Except…

Amala tilted her head. "I know you."

The man with the scruffy beard and slightly balding head grinned. "I should hope so."

Yeah, he'd saved her from a monster up at the cabin. And Uncle Dean had acted like he knew him. So even though he must be something supernatural, he probably wasn't bad. What had he said his name was?

The man canted his head at her notebook. "And what are you learning in your studies?"

Amala relaxed and stuck her pencil between the pages to save her place. "Plants and herbs and their uses in spells and healing."

"Hm," he nodded appreciatively. "Pop quiz, then. What are the properties and uses of hemlock?"

Amala frowned and scrunched up her nose. "Um, I don't know that one."

He let out a soft snort. "Seems like an incomplete education to me."

"Are you here to see Uncle Dean?" she asked.

"No. As a matter of fact, I came to see you."

"Me?" she asked dubiously.

"Of course. Uncle Crowley wants to make sure you're doing well," he said genially.

Amala furrowed her brow. _Uncle Crowley?_ Sure, she had a lot of uncles, but he wasn't an angel; she could tell that much.

"And I brought a surprise," he went on, lifting his hands. In the space of an eye blink, he was suddenly holding a tiny, canine creature, but one like nothing Amala had ever seen.

She leaped to her feet and came closer, studying the black fur and red eyes, and the way a faint, grey aura shimmered around the puppy distortedly.

"What is it?"

"A hellhound."

Amala recoiled with a flash of alarm. She'd read about those. They were vicious monsters who dragged people to Hell. Her gaze lifted to the man in front of her. Did that make him a demon?

"Don't be frightened," he assured her. "I won't let it bite."

Amala pressed her lips together doubtfully, but she was also curious. It looked so small and harmless…

Crowley held the animal out to her, and Amala took a deep breath before reaching out and touching its head. The pup growled, but the demon shushed it, and it let out an almost petulant gurgle instead.

Amala stroked its head, then down to its hindquarters where she gave it a soft scratch. The puppy opened its mouth and lolled its tongue out happily. She grinned. "What's its name?"

"It doesn't have one yet," Crowley replied, pausing thoughtfully. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Mm, Shadow." He certainly looked like he was part shadow.

"Ah," Crowley hedged, "that's not exactly a ferocious name."

Amala shrugged. "Why does it have to be ferocious?"

"Well, it'd be embarrassing otherwise. He is a hellhound, after all."

"But he's so cute."

Crowley sighed. "Well, yes, _now_ he is. But he's going to grow up to be a very formidable beast."

Something in his eye glinted when he said that and looked at Amala, but it was gone just as quickly. He set the puppy down and let it strut around the grove, swishing its nose back and forth through the grass and leaves. Amala wondered if Mom and Dad would let her have a second pet.

The hellhound snapped to attention at nothing, and then suddenly lunged toward where Amala had left her notebook and attacked it.

"No!" she shouted, running over, but the puppy jerked away, tearing several pages with it. "No, bad dog!"

"Oh, bollocks," Crowley muttered. "Oy, drop it. Drop it now."

The hellhound simply glared at him and then proceeded to try to gobble the notebook down whole. Crowley stepped in and grabbed the pup by the scruff of its neck, giving it a sharp shake until it dropped the notebook. Amala stared in dismay at the tattered pages covered in slobber. Her entire report…

"Well," Crowley said, grimacing slightly. "Looks like we should be going." He teleported away.

Amala went over to her notebook and picked it up by the corner, wrinkling her nose at the soggy thing. Even the pencil had been snapped in two.

Maybe the hellhound puppy wasn't that cute after all.

She headed back to the bunker, stopping in the garage to throw her book in the trash can. Then she went downstairs where everyone was gathered in the library.

Uncle Sam looked up from his book. "Hey, find any herbs that grow around here?"

"I didn't really get much chance to look," she replied, coming to rest her hands on the edge of the table. "Um, Dad?"

He looked over. "Yes?"

"I'm not going to be able to give you my report."

He quirked a brow at her. "Why not?"

"A hellhound ate it."

Everyone paused to exchange startled looks. Maybe it did sound a tad ridiculous.

"Excuse me?" Uncle Dean said.

"Your friend Crowley came by," she explained. "He showed me a hellhound."

Uncle Dean's eyes flew wide. "He did _what_?"

"Wait," Uncle Sam sputtered. "Crowley was here?"

Amala nodded. "He brought a hellhound puppy and let me pet it." She sighed. "And then it attacked my notebook. The paper's all mush now."

No one said anything for a long moment, and then Dad stood so abruptly that he scraped the chair's legs across the floor.

"Excuse me," he said in a clipped tone, and strode out of the room toward the stairs.

Uncle Dean lurched from his seat and hurried after him, muttering something under his breath about "killing that son-of-a-bitch."

Mom and Uncle Sam shared a slightly worried look, but didn't get up to follow.

Amala pursed her mouth and scuffed her shoe. She figured she was missing something, but she also knew those looks, and figured no one was going to tell her about it.

"So…" she said. "Do I have to rewrite the report?"

Mom just covered her face with her hand and shook her head. Uncle Sam huffed out a small chuff.

Amala straightened. "Oh, and what's hemlock?"

Uncle Sam gaped at her for a second, mouth moving soundlessly. And then he was pushing himself out of his chair and practically rushing after Dad and Uncle Dean.

Amala plopped down in his spot. At least she wasn't the one in trouble. And she decided she didn't really want a hellhound for a pet.


	22. Trench Coat 3-0

**A/N: Based on a prompt by NordicRivers. I know you mentioned envisioning Ryn and Amy talking clothes, but all of a sudden I realized I also wanted to incorporate S13 Cas's new coat into this verse. XD**

* * *

"Trench Coat 3.0"

Ryn grabbed a teal, long sleeve blouse with lace adorning the bottom hem off the rack and gave it a considering look before draping it over her arm with the other articles she'd picked up while perusing the clothing section.

Amala was growing so fast that they had to go shopping for new clothes every several months. At least Ryn didn't have to feel guilty about using one of the Winchesters' fake credit cards, as she'd been able to access her own cache of resources to pay for her child's needs.

"Mom, how about this?" Amy said, bounding up to her and holding out a small Moto jacket in a dark plum, faux suede.

"That's cute. Did you try it on?"

She shook her head. "I need to find a top to go with it."

Ryn backtracked to where she'd gotten the teal lace blouse, and picked a black one off the rack as well. "Here, try this."

Amy's eyes lit up, and she spun around to head to the nearby dressing room. Ryn perused a few more display racks before following and depositing her armload over the door of the changing stall Amy was in. Then she leaned against the opposite wall to wait.

When Castiel joined her a few minutes later, she didn't even bat an eye that he'd walked right into the women's dressing room. It was early in the morning and the store wasn't busy, anyway.

"I find the Christmas displays unsettling," he said without preamble, casting a nervous look over his shoulder.

Ryn squinted at him. "Okay. Why?"

"Everything is so large and inflatable. I just watched a store associate nearly get smothered by a giant Santa Claus. I almost intervened with my angel blade, but then thought that might be construed as an overreaction, and he did extricate himself eventually."

Ryn pressed her lips together. "Good call."

Castiel glanced up and down the empty hallway, clearing his throat. "How's it coming?"

"Amala, are you ready to show us an outfit?" Ryn called.

"Just a sec!"

A moment later, the door to the stall opened and Amy stepped out, sporting the black top, whose lacy fringe was long enough to extend past the hem of the plum jacket.

Ryn smiled. "Very nice. Looks like a keeper."

"What do you think, Dad?" She did a little twirl for him.

"You look beautiful as always," he replied, earning an exaggerated eye roll from his daughter as she went back into the stall to change.

A few minutes later, she emerged wearing an embroidered cardigan over a rose-patterned blouse.

"These won't work," she said.

Castiel frowned. "Why not? They both look nice."

"The patterns don't go," Amy replied.

He quirked a confused brow. "But they're both flowers."

"Not the same _kind_ of flower."

Ryn came forward and leaned into the stall to sift through the clothes on the hangers, pulling out the teal lace top. "Here, try this one with the sweater."

Amy retreated back into the stall and closed the door.

Castiel furrowed his brow at Ryn. "Do you think we've been taking her horticultural lessons too far?"

She tried to bite back a smile. "No, she's right. Those patterns didn't go together."

He tilted his head. "Bouquets have different flowers in them and still 'go.'"

Ryn patted him on the chest. "Honey, I love you, but you don't exactly have much of a fashion sense."

Castiel glanced down at what he was wearing.

Amy opened the door and stepped out. "Seriously, Dad. You don't even _own_ outfits."

He fingered the lapel of his trench coat with a crease in his brow. "I believe this is an 'outfit.'"

Amy wrinkled her nose. "Not a very good one. Hey, Mom! We should look for a new coat for Dad."

Ryn canted a considering moue at Castiel. "Hm, not a bad idea." That coat he had wasn't very form-fitting, and the color was too washed out for him.

He shifted his weight, suddenly looking nervous. "Ryn, we talked about this…"

"I know." She'd asked him once why he didn't want to expand his wardrobe now that he lived on Earth permanently, and he'd said that outfit was like a second skin to him, almost as fitting as his vessel. And she wasn't going to force him to change.

But improving upon, however, was a different thing entirely…

She turned back to Amy. "How much more do you have to try on?"

"Mm, six outfits."

"Okay. Cas, stay with her. I'll be back."

Castiel opened his mouth as though he wanted to protest, but nothing came out, and Ryn left the two of them in favor of heading over to the men's department. Given the winter season, there were a lot of coats out to look at, but Ryn was able to bypass most of them. She knew exactly what she needed to look for, and could only hope she'd find it.

She spotted some tan trench coats and went straight toward them. There were only three styles, and she carefully looked them over before picking out one. It was a darker shade then the other one, longer, too. Ryn slung it over her arm and made her way back to the kids' section. Castiel and Amy were standing outside the dressing room, Castiel's arms full of the outfits that had passed muster.

Ryn walked up to him and held out the trench coat. "Trade you."

He gave the thing a dubious look as she took the kids clothes from him. "I don't know about this…"

"Just try it on," she cajoled.

"Yeah, come on, Dad," Amy wheedled.

Shaking his head, he huffily shrugged out of his coat, passing it to Ryn, and slipped the other one on. Ryn gave him an evaluative once-over, checking the fit and the curves. Her mouth tugged upward.

"It looks good."

Even Amy was grinning. "Much better than your old one."

Castiel frowned, but moved to go look in the mirror just inside the dressing room. He came to a stop and just stared for a long moment before finally turning back around, a strange look on his face.

"It reminds me of the first one…the one I lost a long time ago."

Ryn pursed her mouth, trying to gauge whether this sudden upwelling of emotion was a sign that the coat was a bad idea or not.

Castiel was silent for a long moment. "Maybe…maybe we could look for a new tie to go with it…?"

Amy brightened. "Yes!" She took his hand and started tugging him toward the main aisle. "Where're the ties?"

Ryn smiled, and cocked her head. "This way."

"It has to be blue to match your eyes," Amy was saying. "But a dark blue. Like the night sky. And not so wide."

Castiel's mouth quirked as he let his daughter lead. "I trust you'll find the perfect one that 'matches.'"

Amy beamed, and Ryn smiled inwardly. She didn't know what the 'first' coat had looked like, or how much sentiment it might have held for Cas, though judging by his reaction, more than this replacement did. And she was glad she'd made the right pick.


	23. Not All That Glitters

**A/N: Based on a request by Pandaruler1897 with some hurt Amy and comforting uncles.**

* * *

"Not All That Glitters"

Amala tossed the small rubber ball down the hall and watched Kit go careening after it. The cat skidded across the concrete with a scraping of claws, almost colliding with the wall when the ball bounced off it and back the same way. Amala laughed, and sprinted forward to snatch up the toy in order to throw it again. This time it rebounded off the wall and went rolling down the adjacent corridor…right through the partially open door to the dangerous artifacts room.

"Oh, no!" Amala gasped as Kit darted into the room after the ball. Neither of them were allowed in there, for obvious reasons. "Kit!" Amala hissed, hurrying after the cat.

She peeked into the storage room. It was dim and musty, filled with shelves containing a myriad of dusty items. Kit had apparently realized this was new territory, and had abandoned her chase to start sniffing around.

Amala stepped inside and looked around for the ball, spotting the bright pink color easily among the drab. It was at the base of one of the shelving units, and she quickly went to retrieve it. As she stood up, her eye caught on something shiny sitting on the lower shelf. It was a gold band with intricate etchings and looked like a bracelet. What was something like that doing in the dangerous artifacts section?

Amala set the ball on the shelf and picked up the piece of jewelry. It was very pretty. And though it was much too large for her small arm, she decided to try it on anyway. Yet the moment she slipped it over her wrist, the two ends suddenly snapped together tightly. Amala yelped and jerked backward, knocking over a cardboard box behind her. Its contents went scattering across the floor, and the noise sent Kit flying from the room.

Amala gripped the bracelet and tried to pry it off, but it wouldn't budge. Inky blackness swirled within the metal, and it gradually turned from gold to black. Amala's pulse leaped with fear, and she tried harder to claw the thing off. Then some of that ebony shadow began to trickle off the bracelet and onto her skin.

Eyes widening, Amala started shaking her arm in an effort to flick it off, but the treacly veins were sticky, wrapping around her forearm like goop. Instantly, she felt it sucking at her blood, her power. She almost screamed for help, but she wasn't supposed to be in here in the first place. Maybe she could fix this herself. After all, she'd been studying a lot about healing herbs lately, and some incantations related to them. All she had to do was apply that now and get this off before anyone noticed.

She turned to leave, remembering at the last second to grab Kit's ball, and then hurried to the storage pantry next to the kitchen where all the spell ingredients were kept. She grabbed the cleansing herbs and oils off the shelf, repeatedly looking over her shoulder to make sure neither of her uncles came by to ask what she was doing. Fortunately, Mom and Dad were away on a case; it was always harder to hide things from them.

Once she had everything, Amala retreated to her room and laid out her supplies. She started using each ingredient by itself, but when they had no effect, she then proceeded to combine them. Over and over she attempted to neutralize the Stygian leech as it continued to satiate itself on her magic, to the point where the squishy threads were thick and bloated against her skin—and were starting to creep further up toward her elbow. She was beginning to feel sick, too: tired and weak.

Tears pricked at Amala's eyes as terror truly began to overtake her, and she felt an inner fire stir in reflex. Heat coursed through her arm, followed by blue-tinged flames that attempted to burn off the dark magic. But the black webbing pulsed greedily, absorbing the energy into itself and instantly rendering her legs boneless. Amala dropped to the floor with a cry. Now she wished Mom and Dad were home.

Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled out into the corridor in desperate search of her uncles.

* * *

Sam finished rebooting the wireless router, then waited several seconds before shouting, "How about now?"

There was a beat of silence, then, "That worked!"

Sam closed the panel in the computer room and headed back out to the library where Dean was already queuing up the streaming anime he'd been in the middle of watching when the internet went down. One would think the Impala had gotten a scratch with the fuss Dean had made.

"You really shouldn't watch that out here," Sam pointed out.

Dean just shrugged.

Rolling his eyes, Sam moved to retake his seat in front of his computer, when a small voice called out from the hallway.

"Uncle Sam."

He turned to find Amy hugging the wall, her pallor ghostly and shoulders hunched forward. His heart leaped into his throat and he surged forward.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently, coming to crouch down in front of her. Amy's eyes were red and she didn't answer, just held out one arm with the sleeve rolled up. Sam's eyes widened in horror at the black webbing encasing her skin. "Oh my god."

"What?" Dean demanded, finally having noticed something was wrong. He strode over, only to pull up short. "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "Amy, what happened?"

"The- the bracelet," she hiccuped. "I found it in one of the storage rooms, and- I just wanted to try it on."

Sam's gaze latched onto the black band around his niece's wrist. It seemed innocuous enough, but the treacly webbing did look like it was coming from underneath it.

"It hurts," Amy whimpered. "And I can't get it off."

Shit. Sam exchanged a panicked look with his brother. "We need to call Cas."

Dean was already pulling out his phone and dialing, but after a mere second, hung up. "Dammit, it's going straight to voice mail. He must not have any service how far out they went."

Sam's heart stuttered. Okay, they could handle this. The bracelet had to be some kind of cursed object, so they could check the books…except Amy was growing paler by the second and those bulbous veins on her arm looked like they were steadily creeping higher.

Dean also took one look at her and declared, "We need a witch."

Sam's brows rose dubiously. "A witch? Where are we gonna find one of those, and one who's willing to help us?"

Dean tapped his phone again. "I think I still have Rowena's number."

 _Rowena_? He had to be kidding. Sure, she'd helped them fight the Darkness, but that had been in her own self-interest.

…Still, whatever this curse was, it was powerful enough to attack a half angel, half phoenix, which meant they didn't have a choice—they needed a powerful witch to break it.

Dean put his phone to his ear. Sam couldn't hear the other end, but a moment later his brother replied, "Yeah, well, we need your help." He went on to describe the bracelet and what it was doing.

Sam picked Amy up and carried her over to sit in a chair.

"Where can we meet you?" Dean asked a few minutes later. Then he hung up. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Sam asked, even as he scooped Amy up in his arms again.

"Cloverville. It's halfway between the bunker and where Rowena's at now. We can both be there in an hour."

"I don't want to see a witch," Amy said fearfully.

"Don't worry, Rowena can help," Dean assured her. "And she won't hurt you. She knows better than to cross us."

Sam wasn't sure about that, but it wasn't like they had much choice. Dean snatched up the keys to the Impala and they headed out to the garage. Sam hastily buckled Amy into the backseat and climbed in next to her to keep an eye on that bracelet. He wanted to ask his brother what Rowena had said about the curse's purpose, but didn't want to frighten Amala more than she already was.

The drive was fraught with tension and silence save for the roar of the Impala's engine as Dean raced down the highway.

"I'm sorry," Amy spoke up after a while.

"Hey, it's not your fault," Sam replied.

She ducked her gaze. "I know I'm not supposed to touch stuff in the storage rooms."

Sam sighed in sympathy. What kid didn't fall to temptation now and then? And it wasn't like every dangerous object came with a warning label.

"We'll fix it," he promised.

By the time they reached Cloverville, Amy was slumped against Sam, lethargic and eyes drooping blearily. It made his heart race painfully inside his chest. He picked her up and exited the car as Dean led the way across an empty picnic ground to a table where a red-headed woman was sitting.

Rowena arched a delicate brow at them. "Well, now, I was expecting dear Samuel here to be the victim of this bracelet you described. Who is this wee lass?"

"Our niece," Dean snapped. "Now hurry up and get the damn thing off."

Rowena sniffed haughtily, but gestured for Sam to bring Amy closer. He took a seat on the picnic bench, shifting Amy so she was in his lap, the wrist with the bracelet facing Rowena. Though weak, Amy shrank back against his chest.

The witch took her arm and extended it, getting a full view of the sinister, swollen webbing wreathed up past her elbow now. Rowena let out a sound of disbelief, eyes moving to Amy's face. "I've never seen the leech curse feed so quickly like this. What are you that you have so much power in one so young?"

"Rowena," Dean growled.

She huffed in exasperation. "Fine."

Holding one hand out over the bracelet, she uttered several words in Latin. The band briefly lit up silver through etchings that Sam hadn't seen before, and the inky cords pulsed. Once, then twice. Then they slowly started slurping their way back down her arm toward the bracelet. Amy let out a choked sound of distress, and Sam hugged her tighter, tucking her head under his chin.

"You're okay," he soothed. "I've got you."

He and Dean watched tensely as the black veins shrank and receded. The onyx color of the bracelet even faded, transforming into a shiny gold instead. And once the last trace of shadow dispersed, the ends snapped open and the thing plunked on the ground.

Sam quickly straightened so he could check Amy over, cupping her head with one hand while he scanned her arm. It was free of the curse. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

She nodded.

Rowena leaned over to pick up the gold band. "Such a deliciously nasty piece of work this craftsmanship is." She arched a brow at the Winchesters. "You really shouldn't let children play with something like this."

"Yeah, we got it," Dean snipped, and held out his hand for the object.

Rowena pursed her mouth in a pouting moue and handed it over. "Where's the gratitude? I didn't have to drop everything to come help you, you know."

"We know," Sam interjected before Dean could get more testy. "And thank you."

Rowena paused at his sincere tone, then looked at Amy again. "Well, it's good for karma to do one good deed for the year," she replied blithely as she stood up gracefully. "Next time, though, won't be free."

"Got it," Sam said. Hopefully there wouldn't _be_ a next time.

Rowena sashayed off, and Dean took her seat on the bench, eyes roving over Amy in concern.

"You okay, kiddo?"

Amy nodded again. "Just tired."

Not surprising, given that had been a ' _leech_ ' curse. "Let's go home," Sam said. "And lock that thing up good and tight," he added, glancing at the bracelet.

"I'm never trying on jewelry again," Amy mumbled.

Dean shook his head, some of his tension finally draining out of his rigid shoulders. "At least not jewelry found in the Men of Letters storage rooms."

Sam heartily seconded that.

Just par for the course with their lives, though.


	24. Merry Christmas

**A/N: Some Christmas fluff this holiday season. And some cookies and Gabriel for cheryl24.**

* * *

"Merry Christmas"

Castiel sat in the rocking chair by the window, a quiet fixture amidst the cabin's quaint yet bustling activity as he watched Dean, Ryn, and Amala in the kitchen baking cookies. He would help, except the space wasn't that big to begin with, even with the open floor plan. Besides, the kitchen had always been Dean's and Ryn's domain. Not even Sam was participating, but was lounging on the sofa with a book while a fire crackled in the hearth a few feet away.

They had come up to the cabin in Montana to spend the holidays, have a true white Christmas instead of staying in the underground bunker. The place had undergone a lot of upgrades since Ryn had become part of the Winchester clan. Dean had even built on an extra room so he and Sam would have a place to sleep. He'd been very enthused with the idea of family vacations. Castiel had also helped with the construction, taking lessons from Dean as they went, and he felt a certain amount of pride at having contributed to providing for his family.

He returned his attention to the kitchen, simply basking in the joy of watching them smile as they rolled out the dough and then cut out pieces in the shape of Christmas trees. They dusted the cookies with glittering red and green sprinkles, and then put them in the oven.

Ryn carried some of the used measuring cups over to the sink, and paused to lean closer to the window, gaze angled up. "Hey, it looks like it might start snowing soon. Maybe you guys should go get a tree now."

Dean straightened. "Yeah, alright. Hey, munchkin, go get your coat. Sam, you coming?"

Sam closed his book and set it aside. "Yep."

Castiel stood up as well. Once the others had gotten their coats and gloves, the four of them headed outside, leaving Ryn to watch the cookies. They went around to the back of the cabin so Dean could grab the ax and some twine, and then they ventured out into the already snow covered woods.

It wasn't actually that easy finding a pine tree of acceptable size; most were too large. They did come across a spindly sapling, which Dean adamantly turned down.

"Do you think we should have gone to a lot?" Sam asked.

"No way am I strapping a tree to Baby's roof," Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We could have taken Cas's car," he said pointedly.

"And shell out a hundred bucks? I don't think so."

"How about this one?" Amala called out.

They turned to where she was standing next to a young fir with branches fully filled out. When Sam came to stand next to it, he was just a foot shy of the top.

"I think it looks perfect," the younger Winchester declared.

Dean eyed it critically before nodding in agreement. "Alright, this one it is."

Castiel stepped forward to take hold of the top portion of the tree and hold it while Dean got into position to chop at the base. After he completely hacked through the trunk, Castiel lifted the tree up and gave it a couple good shakes to dislodge any insects that might have made their abode in its branches. Then he carried it a few feet away and laid it down on its side. Dean handed him some twine, and together they bound the branches for easier dragging back to the cabin.

On the return trek, Amala paused to scoop up a handful of snow and threw it at Sam. It splatted against his back. He spun so quickly toward her that she shrieked and took off. Sam chased after her, galumphing through the drifts as Amala nimbly darted in and out of trees.

Dean just shook his head at them, whereas Castiel felt a warm glow of contentment.

They made it back to the cabin and Castiel tried to brush the snow off the tree before they brought it inside. Though, he really didn't need to bother, as Sam and Amala were even more covered in snow they were currently trekking inside. At least Castiel was able to dry his own attire—the dress shoes really weren't the most weather appropriate, but it seemed pointless to get him a pair of boots.

He finally carted the fir inside and Dean already had the stand assembled, so then it was simply a matter of getting the trunk into the center and tightening the base.

The cookies were out of the oven and the cabin was filled with the warm aroma of vanilla and sugar. Ryn scooted the box of Christmas decorations over to the tree for them. They didn't have a ton of ornaments, mostly some old ones found in a Men of Letters storage box, and then some things they'd picked up recently. Castiel pulled out the string of lights to start with, and Sam helped him wrap the cord around the tree while Dean nitpicked at the actual placement of the lights on each branch. Then they started with the ornaments.

Amala had snatched a cookie off one of the plates and was eating it with one hand while hanging ornaments with the other. There were several glass balls in red and gold, some snowflakes, and some candy canes from the last gas station they'd stopped at on the drive up. All in all, the tree's decorations were a motley assortment that Castiel thought fit his family rather well.

There was a flutter of wingbeats and Gabriel appeared with a flourish. "Hark, the herald angel sings!"

"Uncle Gabriel!" Amala bounded over to give him a hug.

"Hey, kid," he grinned, giving her a fervent squeeze in return.

Castiel smiled at his brother. "I wasn't sure you'd find time to get away from Heaven to join us."

"Well, I had to," the archangel replied. "Especially when I saw you didn't have an angel on top of that Christmas tree. So, of course I had to come remedy that."

"I don't think you would fit up there," Amala replied with an air of tongue in cheek.

Gabriel arched a brow. "No, Miss Smarty Pants, but I could stick _you_ up there instead." He made to grab at her, but she twisted around and pranced away with a laugh.

"That's not in bad taste?" Sam interjected. "Putting an angel on top of the tree? I mean, given half our family here is an angel?"

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. "Pft, of course not. It symbolizes us watching over humanity."

Dean opened his mouth, and Castiel could just see the Winchester's snark in his expression, but Ryn, who was standing closer to him, smacked his arm with a warning glare before he could say anything. He shot her a wounded look, and sulked off toward the cookies.

Gabriel, thankfully, either hadn't noticed or was gracefully choosing to ignore it. The archangel instead snapped his fingers and produced a figurine—with dark hair and wearing a tan trench coat.

Castiel angled a dry look at him. "Now even I know that _is_ bad taste."

Gabriel shrugged, and then with a wave of his hand, changed the likeness to himself, only with gold robes and holding a horn. He strode toward the tree and had to stand on his tiptoes to plunk it on top.

Castiel shook his head in fond exasperation.

Amala grabbed the second plate of cookies from the kitchen and brought it over to Gabriel.

"Why, thank you!" he exclaimed, gladly taking one and popping it in his mouth. "Mmm. You've got all the fixings for a real Christmas, don't ya?" he commented, but then paused and pursed his mouth. "Well, almost everything."

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, though nothing seemed to happen that Castiel had noticed. But then Gabriel was grabbing Ryn's arm and ushering her to stand next to Castiel.

"Yeah, right there," the archangel said.

Castiel furrowed his brow at his brother. "What are you doing?"

Gabriel just grinned cheekily at him, and then Dean was snickering.

"Cas, look up."

Castiel warily lifted his eyes and spotted a sprig of plant hanging above him that he was fairly certain had not been there previously. He looked back at Dean, who was smirking, and Gabriel who was waggling his eyebrows. Sam looked as though he was trying to cover his amusement.

"And?" Castiel asked in exasperation.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. " _And_ you're supposed to kiss whoever you're standing under the mistletoe with. It's a rule."

Castiel frowned. "That seems like a silly rule."

"Nevertheless…" Gabriel gestured at them pointedly.

Castiel sighed, and turned to Ryn with an apologetic look as he leaned in to quickly give her a peck on the corner of the mouth.

Gabriel groaned loudly. "Oh, come on! Kiss her like she's the mother of your child!"

Castiel shifted in discomfort. "I will smite you for this," he muttered.

"Good. I like fireworks. Let's see some."

Ryn reached out to cup Castiel's face, turning his attention fully on her. "I'll help you roast him later," she said with a seductive gleam in her eye.

Castiel still felt uncomfortable being put on the spot, with an audience, yet he managed to close his mouth over hers. Sparks certainly flew for him, and he found himself instinctively deepening the kiss as he breathed in her scent of cinnamon and burnt pine. A heady sensation flooded through him, briefly muting out everything else.

"Ew," Amala said, breaking the moment.

Castiel abruptly pulled back, his cheeks warming. Gabriel barked out a laugh, and Castiel flicked his wrist sharply, flinging the mistletoe off the ceiling beam and into Gabriel's face. It bounced off his nose and fell between his and Amala's feet.

"Now I believe there's someone you have to kiss," Castiel said smugly.

Gabriel shot him a wry look, but he immediately scooped Amala up in his arms and started bombarding her with monstrous kisses all over her face. She squealed and laughed in between demands to be put down.

Ryn slipped an arm around Castiel's waist and leaned into him. He was very thankful she was so tolerant of his family's antics.

"Hey," Sam interrupted, looking out the window. "It's snowing."

Gabriel set Amala back down and she hurried to open the front door, her eyes wide with delight at the snow lightly drifting down. They all came over to crowd at the threshold and watch as well. It made the world seem so still and calm.

Castiel angled his head up at the gentle swirls. He had never been so full of joy and peace.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and leaned in with a return whisper, "Merry Christmas."


	25. Stormy Weather

**A/N: Braylon on Ao3 asked for some cuddles with Dean and Amy, but since I already did the bad dream scenario, I came up with another circumstance where Amy might be afraid and Dean can give her some comfort cuddles. Hope you like it!**

* * *

"Stormy Weather"

Red lights gleamed lowly in the hallways, the bunker's emergency system functioning on low power even though the backup generators had failed. Dean wrenched open a storage cabinet and grabbed a flashlight off the shelf. He clicked it on, adding a halo of a white LED beam to the dim room. Above his head, the ventilation ducts rattled with the force of the gales raging outside.

Pattering footsteps preceded Sam hurrying into the room. "I can't get the power back on."

Dean grabbed a second flashlight and handed it to his brother. "Friggin' elemental."

What had started as a series of suspicious tornadoes targeting the same company's real estate developments had ended with a very pissed off air spirit now barreling down on their heads. Cas was currently outside trying to reason with it, though Dean thought they were way past that point by now. He really hoped the angel didn't get sucked into a vortex before they found some artifact thingy that was supposed to appease it. At least Ryn was outside with Cas to help keep him grounded. Unless they both got swept away.

Dean nudged past Sam and led the way down the darkened corridors toward the storage rooms with the artifacts. They were looking for a small, silver medallion, Ryn had said. It was supposed to be a totem of peace or something. Dean was skeptical, but they didn't have many options at this point.

He and Sam ransacked the shelves and crates in search of it, heedless of knocking stuff over. Every so often something would reverberate through the vents with a boom, and Dean imagined that an entire mountainside might have been uprooted and dropped on top of them. His flashlight beam reflected off something shiny and metallic, and Dean snatched it up.

"I got it!" He spun around and started sprinting back down the corridor toward the library, Sam on his heels.

He almost tripped over a small body huddled against the wall in the passageway.

"Amy?"

Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she lifted wide, terrified eyes to him.

Dean quickly passed Sam the medallion. "Here, go."

His brother spared him a brief look before breaking into a run toward the stairs.

Dean knelt down next to Amy. "Hey, kiddo. What are you doing on the floor here?"

"There was a loud noise and it scared Kit. I went after her but the lights went out, and I couldn't hear anyone."

Dean grimaced. They hadn't meant to leave her alone; granted, they hadn't meant to bring a wrathful storm elemental to their doorstep, either.

"What's going on?" she asked worriedly.

"Uh, well, there's a…storm creature outside. And it's kinda throwing a tantrum. But don't worry, we're trying to…calm it down." He mentally shook his head. That sounded ridiculous even to him.

His knees twinged, so Dean turned in order to fully sit on the floor, leaning back against the wall next to Amy. There wasn't much point trying to go somewhere else in the bunker, as it was all dark and tinged in red. He hoped the others were doing okay out there… Part of him wanted to be out there, too. That was his job. But there wasn't much he could actually contribute against a being of this scale, and here he could do something, even if it was just to keep his niece company as they waited out the storm.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" Amy asked tentatively.

"Nah," Dean replied, then paused. "Are you?"

"No."

Dean angled his head to look down at her. He couldn't make out her features very well, but he definitely heard the uncertain quaver in her voice. He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer.

"It is kinda cold with the power out," he commented. Sitting on the concrete didn't help.

"Do you think Kit's okay?" Amy said, pressing against him.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure she's fine," Dean replied. "Cats see great in the dark."

A subtle vibration rumbled above their heads, and Dean tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, though this deep underground, he had no idea just what was happening outside. But as much as he wanted to barge out there, he couldn't just leave Amy alone. And so he waited, fighting against every fiber in his being to remain calm and nonchalant on the surface.

"Why is the storm creature angry?" Amy spoke up after several moments.

"Well, I think it got tired of this one company polluting the air with its factories." That was what'd they'd pieced together before they'd then attempted a spell to bring the air elemental down a notch. It had really not liked that.

"Your dad thinks the elemental got polluted, too, kind of corrupted by the toxic air. Normally they're peaceful creatures."

"So, it's sick?"

Dean's mouth turned up. "Yeah. Yeah, it's sick."

Cas and Ryn had wanted to help it from the beginning, while Dean had jumped straight to asking how to kill it. He needed to remember to be better about that. Amy was a good reminder.

They lapsed into silence again, huddled in the dark. It took Dean a while to notice that he couldn't hear the ventilation ducts rattling anymore. But whether that was a good sign or bad…

There was a sudden grinding noise and whir, and then the red lights dimmed as the regular ones flicked back on to full power. Dean quickly got to his feet, helping Amy up as well, and they ventured into the library just as several sets of footsteps were coming down the stairs. A wave of sheer relief flooded Dean when he saw Sam, Cas, and Ryn descending the steps. Their hair was all wildly mussed and Cas's tie was over one shoulder, but they were in one piece.

"We good?" Dean asked.

Sam just gave him an exhausted nod.

"We were able to cleanse the air elemental of the negative energy," Cas confirmed, and even he sounded tired.

Dean's shoulders sagged. "Good." He turned to Amy. "All in a day's work, right?"

She gave him a small smile and nod. "Right. I'm gonna go find Kit."

That could take a while. Dean turned to the others. "And maybe I should make us some coffee."

Sam snorted. "Please."

Dean smirked, and headed toward the kitchen. Yup, all in a day's work.


	26. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

**A/N: mckydstarlight requested a flashback fic of Amy as a baby.**

* * *

"A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes"

Castiel stood over the crib in the room the Winchesters had designated as the bunker's nursery, unable to tear his eyes away from the infant sleeping inside. She was so small, so fragile looking. Castiel marveled at this tiny life, still not quite able to believe he had helped create her, that she was his. Watching her sleep, peaceful like this, filled him with immense joy.

But then she started to wake with an immediate whimper that erupted into full blown crying, and Castiel found himself fumbling over what to do. He reached out a tendril of his grace in order to soothe her, but it didn't work, and she only wailed louder.

"No, please don't," Castiel pleaded. Ryn was taking a nap, still recovering after the ordeal of giving birth and he didn't want to bother her. He also wanted to prove that he could be a good father and take care of his child, but he really was out of his depth. His last experience looking after a baby when he'd been human had not gone very well.

"Um…" Castiel cautiously reached into the crib to lift Amala up. She squirmed and flailed as he cradled her carefully, rocking her in his arms. Still, she didn't quiet. Great, she was barely a couple weeks old and already he couldn't do anything right.

"Kid's got a nice set of lungs," a voice spoke from the doorway, and Castiel turned to find Dean standing there.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what's wrong and I can't get her to stop." His throat tightened. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"She's a newborn. The only things she doesn't like is being cold, hungry, and wet," Dean replied, coming into the room. "Did you check her diaper?"

Castiel frowned. "No."

Dean gestured for him to lay her down on the desk, which they'd cleared off in order to be a changing table, and Castiel hastily did so, stepping back so Dean could check the diaper.

"Okay, dry," Dean said, buttoning the onesie back up. "Guess that makes this the hungry cry."

Castiel quirked a brow at him. "There are different kinds of cries?"

"Yeah, there are subtle differences. You'll develop a sense for which is which." Dean picked Amala up again and headed for the door. "Come on, I'll show you how to heat the formula."

Castiel followed, wincing as Amala's wailing reverberated down the bunker's corridors.

"Guess we should be glad she's not screaming in angel," Dean commented. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "She's not gonna develop that, is she?"

Castiel hesitated, somewhat alarmed at the thought. "I…don't know."

Dean flicked a wary glance at the infant in his arms. "Then we'd better hurry up with that bottle."

They made their way to the kitchen where they found Sam sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. The younger Winchester grimaced when they entered.

"Sorry," Castiel felt the need to apologize. "I couldn't get her to stop."

"Because she's hungry," Dean said, as though it were no big deal. He headed to Sam and promptly deposited the baby in his brother's arms, ignoring Sam's sputtering surprise. "Cas, the formula's in the pantry."

Castiel wavered for a second, but then went to retrieve the box while Dean fetched the bottle. Then they read the instructions for how much water to mix and how long to heat it for, all the while Amala kept screaming louder and louder in the background. They were barely able to hear the microwave beep when the bottle finished heating.

Dean took it out and then squeezed a drop on his wrist. Castiel frowned at him in confusion.

"Always check the temperature," Dean explained, taking Castiel's hand and dabbing a bit of formula on his skin as well. "That's a good temperature. Any hotter and it could burn her mouth."

Castiel instantly committed that exact sensation and degree to memory.

"I can't believe you still remember how to do all that," Sam remarked.

"What do you mean?" Dean rejoined. "I made you a bottle last week."

Sam shot him a dry look. "Hah-hah," he deadpanned.

Smirking, Dean handed Castiel the bottle. "Have at it."

Castiel nervously approached the wailing infant and carefully placed the bottle tip in her mouth. Her cries stopped as she took to sucking instead, and Castiel let out a sigh of relief. Sam's face broke into a giddy grin as he cradled her in his arms. When she was done, Castiel withdrew the bottle, but Amala's face scrunched up and she began to mewl again. His heart fell.

"I don't understand. Why is she still not happy?"

Dean exchanged a look with Sam, and the younger Winchester proceeded to pass Amala into Castiel's available arms. He wanted to protest, but her fussing instantly turned to faint gurgles, and then she quieted. Castiel gaped at a pair of amber eyes gazing up at him as he felt her grace settle into a contented thrum in sync with his.

Dean grinned. "She knows who her dad is."

Castiel had no words, only an upwelling of emotions he couldn't even name, but they were bright and warm and full of immeasurable love. The world faded to black.

Castiel blinked his eyes open to find himself laying on a bed in what looked like a motel room, with Sam's and Dean's worried faces looming over him.

"Cas?"

He frowned. "What happened?"

"You got dosed by the djinn," Sam replied. "We didn't think it would have an effect on you, but you went under pretty fast. We killed the djinn and gave you the antidote. You feel okay?"

Castiel pushed himself up onto his elbows and gazed around the room. "Yes."

"Why didn't you realize it was a djinn dream?" Dean asked. "What was your wish fulfillment?"

Castiel slowly shook his head. "Nothing. I was dreaming of the day we brought Amala home to the bunker. Everything was exactly the same."

It was one of the happiest moments he'd ever felt, the first in a long line of them since.

Sam and Dean shared a look, then gave him soft smiles.

"Guess we know to keep you away from djinn in the future," Dean said lightly, and clapped him on the shoulder.

Castiel would have argued the point, but he was still overcome by the memory evoked in the dream. "So, the djinn is dead and the case is done?" he asked instead.

Dean's lips twitched. "Yeah. We can go home."


	27. Protector

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. The power went out this morning, thankfully fifteen minutes AFTER my alarm went off, so I wasn't late for work. But I wasn't able to upload as planned.**

* * *

"Protector"

Sam pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center and had to drive up and down the aisles a few times before he found a parking spot. He was picking up Amy from karate class today, and had arrived early so he could watch the lesson. The kid had taken to the art like a natural, and was already a blue belt. Not that Sam was surprised, given Amy's parentage.

He hurried across the lot and into the dojo, a set of wind chimes jingling above the door. There was a small waiting area with a counter and displays containing pamphlets and brochures, and then on either side two hallways that led to separate workout areas lined with padded floors and mirrors. Chairs were set against one wall for parents to sit and watch.

Sam made his way over to where Amy's class was and scanned the rows of kids going through their high kicks. He frowned, not spotting her.

"Mr. Winchester?" a voice called.

Sam turned to find the receptionist walking toward him. "Yeah. Something wrong? I don't see my niece with her class." He glanced over his shoulder to check one more time.

"Amy's in Sensei Walker's office. I'm afraid we had an incident here earlier."

Sam tensed. "What happened?"

The woman beckoned him to follow her. "She was caught fighting."

Sam had to take a second to process that, and his brow furrowed as he hurried to keep up. "Um, don't you guys practice fighting drills?"

The receptionist just gave him a look. "On the mat under supervision, without the intent to cause harm. This happened outside, and she struck the boy so hard his nose started bleeding."

Sam's gut tightened. "Maybe it was an accident?" Maybe Amy didn't realize she was being too forceful. She wasn't exactly human.

"We do not permit sparring outside the dojo," she replied tersely, coming to a stop in front of a closed door. "The boy wasn't a student here. If he was, I would have called his parents and this would have become a much bigger issue. As it is, he ran off, so the only one being reprimanded here is Amy. The sensei has already spoken to her, and she will be allowed in class next week. But he made it perfectly clear that what happened is unacceptable."

"I'm really sorry," Sam said. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

The receptionist gave him a sharp look, then sighed. "Look, Amy's a sweet kid and a good student. And she seems to have a very close family unit. Whatever the reason for her acting out, I hope you'll take the time to figure it out."

Sam nodded hurriedly. "I will." He just hoped it didn't mean Amy would have to give up karate. She'd be crushed.

The receptionist finally opened the door, revealing Amy in her karate uniform, sitting in a chair with her head down. She looked up at their entrance.

"Your uncle's here to take you home," the receptionist said. "I hope to see you next week."

Amy silently slid off the chair and came out. Sam put a hand on her shoulder, a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but he stayed quiet as he led her outside and to the car. Instead of turning on the ignition when they got inside, though, he just sat there.

"Want to tell me what happened?" he prompted.

Amy didn't answer right away. "Justin was late to class again," she started.

Sam quirked a confused brow; didn't the receptionist say the boy wasn't a student? And what did being late have to do with anything?

"Sensei makes him do extra sit-ups for being late," Amy went on. "And Justin won't tell him it's not his fault. There's this other boy, Todd, who hangs around the mall and always waits for Justin outside and pushes him around before class." Amy turned in her seat to look at Sam. "Todd's a bully and I couldn't just do nothing. So I went outside and I told him to leave Justin alone. He laughed, so I hit him. He ran away crying."

Sam winced. Well, that made a lot more sense. He frowned. "Did you tell your sensei this?"

Amy pursed her mouth. "No. Justin didn't want to tell. I know how important it is to keep secrets."

Sam grimaced again. Wow, was this a tangled web. He couldn't even chide her for not telling the full truth because that was exactly what they'd taught her to do, at least when it came to the supernatural. This was a bit more mundane, but still.

"I know you wanted to protect Justin's secret," Sam said. "But for something like a kid bullying another kid, it's better to tell an adult, let them handle it."

"You would never turn away from someone who needed help," she countered. "You and Uncle Dean fight bad guys all the time."

"Well, yeah, but this kid Todd isn't a bad guy."

Amy shot him a pointed glower.

"Okay, he wasn't a _good_ guy," Sam amended. "But it's still different."

"No it's not. Justin needed help. He was afraid of his dad finding out. He couldn't count on the adults to help him, so I did."

Sam held back a sigh, because it wasn't like he hadn't been in the same position himself as a kid. Being raised as a hunter, a fighter, gave him the courage and sense of duty to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves. Why should he expect any different from his niece? She was even willing to take the punishment and blame for fighting without trying to justify it. Sam wasn't sure how Cas and Ryn would feel about it, but in that moment, Sam decided that what Amy needed more than a scolding was affirmation. Because she had done the right thing.

"I'm proud of you," he said. "For standing up for that boy."

Amy started to smile.

" _But_ ," he added emphatically. "Fighting should never be your first course of action with humans, not unless they're physically threatening you or someone in that moment."

Amy canted her head, silent for a few beats. "So, you're saying I should have walked with Justin, and when Todd tried to push him, then it'd be okay to hit him?"

Sam blinked at her. "Um…" Heck, that's exactly what Dean would say, with full approval. Sam shook his head and finally started up the engine. "I'm saying…you did good." He flashed her a small smile, which she returned.

Amy had a good head on her shoulders, and good instincts. She was gonna grow up to be quite the force for good.


	28. Winter Wonderland

**A/N: Thank you guest (or guests) for your reviews of chapters 15 and 21. I'm glad to hear you've been enjoying this series. :)**

* * *

"Winter Wonderland"

Ryn knelt in the snow, a cold patch seeping into the fabric of her pants as she tied the laces on Amala's ice skates. Once they were secure, she grabbed both her daughter's hands and heaved her up to her feet.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Dean asked, dubiously eyeing the ice-laden pond.

"It's frozen solid," Castiel assured him.

Sam already had his skates on and took the first tentative step out onto the ice. "It's been years since I've done this," he remarked, wobbling slightly.

Amy stomped through the snow to reach the smooth edge, and then glided out onto the ice toward him. Sam took her hand, and together they worked to find their balance, which wasn't working out so well with their disproportionate sizes.

Ryn sat on a large rock and pulled her own pair of skates on. Even Castiel was lacing up a set. Dean was holding out.

"Come on, Dean. What are you waiting for?" Ryn needled him.

"For Sam to fall flat on his ass first."

"Don't be such a grinch," said brother retorted.

"Yeah, come on, Uncle Dean!" Amala cajoled.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean plopped down on a fallen log and started pulling his boots off.

Ryn pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the pond, which was almost the size of an actual rink, but with a little tributary branching off into a smaller oval in the back. Charcoal gray trees dusted in white powder stood in thickets under a pewter sky. The air was crisp and nipped at Ryn's cheeks as she lengthened her strides until she was sweeping around the perimeter of the pond in swift glides. If she closed her eyes, the sensation was almost like flying.

A startled yelp followed by uproarious laughter broke the moment, and she arced around one end of the pond to head back toward where Dean was sitting flat on his ass on the ice, and Amala and Sam were laughing. Dean scowled at them as Castiel skated over to help him up.

"I'll race you," Amy said.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. You win already."

Sam hunkered down and pointed to the opposite end of the pond. "Ready? Go!"

He surged forward, as did Amala, the two of them pumping their legs to get across the ice. Halfway there, Sam's stride went too far and he pitched sideways to hit the ice, sliding a few inches on his back.

"Very graceful, Samantha!" Dean called.

Amala reached the end of the pond and turned back. "I win!"

As she skated back to Sam, he reached up to grab her, pulling her down on top of him with a squeal.

Ryn skidded to a stop at Dean's side and hooked her arm in his elbow. "Come on."

Dean's face was still disgruntled, but he nevertheless followed as Ryn guided him along the edge of the pond, taking the movements slow. Castiel skated on Dean's other side, splitting his attention between watching Dean's balance and out toward the center of the pond where Sam and Amala were back on their feet and holding hands to skate in sweeping circles.

Dean made it once around the pond before dislodging himself from Ryn and shuffling toward the snow. "I'm good. You don't have to babysit me." He thrust his chin toward the middle of the pond. "And I'll babysit those two."

Ryn's lips twitched, but she shrugged and pushed away, increasing her speed around the pond to recapture that sensation of the wind buffeting her face and whipping through the folds of her jacket. It wasn't the same as having wings spread wide or plummeting down through the air currents, but it was close.

The ring of a child's laughter chimed all around her, as did some brotherly banter. It kept the illusion from becoming fully real, but that was all right; she enjoyed it just as much.

Castiel had changed direction and was now coming toward her. She stopped adding to her momentum, letting herself simply sail toward him. When he reached a hand out, she took it, letting him catch her and swing her around in an arc, his crystal blue eyes the single, solid anchor as the surrounding scenery blurred together.

When he released her, she tucked her arms in tight and let herself spiral in place, finally petering to a stop to find him pressed close right in front of her. His mouth quirked with a small smile. Ryn returned it.

Applause disrupted the moment, and she looked over her shoulder to find the others clapping.

"Wow, Mom! Can you teach me to do that?"

Ryn broke into a grin. "Sure. Dean, Sam, how about you?"

Dean scoffed loudly. "Yeah, that ain't happening. And guys don't twirl."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Professional male skaters do."

"Do I look like a professional male skater to you?"

"You're right, you can't pull off the leotard."

"Whereas you've got the hair for it."

Ryn skated over to Dean and drew to a stop, reaching down to snatch up a broken branch. "I was thinking more of if you ever had to do battle on the ice."

He blinked at her. "Uh, come again?"

Castiel angled an amused look at her. "Is that where you learned to skate?"

She canted her head. "Partially." She gave Dean's leg a light thwack with the branch. "Come on."

Dean just threw them all a confused look. "How did we go from a froufrou sport to combat training?"

Ryn flashed him a sly grin, and then skated over to Amy to instruct her on the form and how to achieve it. Sam, at least, seemed interested in listening and perhaps trying for himself, too.

Of course, it wasn't meant to be a serious lesson, and it eventually devolved back into messing around and practicing playful jumps while speeding down the ice. Ryn didn't take off on her own to fly around the ring again, but instead found Castiel's hand and the two of them glided across the pond together while their family laughed and reveled in the simple tranquility of a mid-winter day.


	29. Apple Pie

**A/N: I posted this and a song fic today, and I suggest you read the song fic first, because it's horribly depressing and dark, and you'll probably want to come over here for some happy feels to wash the taste out of your mouth. Just a suggestion. ;)**

* * *

"Apple Pie"

Dean dusted the red tablecloth with flour, and then poured out the pastry dough on top to start rolling it out. Classic rock blared from the speakers attached to the iPod dock, loud enough that Dean had to raise his voice a bit to tell Amy to take some flour and dust the pie tin with it.

She grabbed a fistful from the bag and proceeded to do so. It didn't take as much as she'd grabbed, and she stood at the counter for a moment before simply opening her hand and giving a hearty blow. Flour spewed into the air, hitting the side of Dean's head. Some of it found its way up his nose, and he ducked his face into his elbow to sneeze. He then leveled a look at his niece.

"Really?"

She giggled, and brushed her hands on her apron.

Dean finished flattening out the pastry, and then draped it over the tin, the edges spilling over the sides. He pressed the folds into the ridged edges, making sure to fill each crevice to get that perfect crimp.

"You finish mixing the filling?" he asked over the jamming guitar solo.

"Yes!" She grabbed the large glass bowl and carried it over to show him the cinnamon glazed apples.

Dean nodded in approval, and started scooping the filling into the pie tin while she held the bowl steady. Once that was done, he set it aside and re-dusted the tablecloth so he could roll out the top piece of pastry, but a new beat filled the kitchen as the iPod queued up the next song, one Dean couldn't resist dropping everything for. He brought his hands up to hold an air guitar as he began to mime ripping through the punching riffs. Just as the lyrics were about to start, he whipped a hand toward his niece, pointing at her as he began to lip sync.

"Rising up, back on the street." Dean arced his extended arm out to the side. "Did my time, took my chances!"

Amy snatched the spatula off the counter and held it spade end up as she fake sang into it. "Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet."

"Just a man and his will to survive." Dean switched to air drums for the next bit.

Amy spread her feet apart and shot one hand into the air in a class rock star pose as she raised the spatula-mic. "It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight."

Dean skirted over to her, jamming out on an air guitar again. "Rising up to the challenge of our rival."

Amy started performing some of her karate moves to punctuate the last part of the chorus. "And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night."

"And he's watching us all, with the eye of the tiger."

They rocked out till the end of the song, and then descended into a fit of chuckles and giggling. Dean went back to finish the top piece of pastry, rolling it out and then folding it over the top of the pie. He pinched the edges and put some slits in the top, and then put the thing in the oven to bake. After setting the timer, Dean turned around, only to take in the messy kitchen dubiously. There were mixing utensils across the countertops, used bowls, a cutting board covered in apple juice and skin peels, a sticky pan on the stove from making the cinnamon glaze.

Every time, Dean got so caught up in baking that he couldn't seem to keep track of _not_ making such a mess. Oh well.

Amy was sitting at the counter, running her finger around the inside of the mixing bowl and licking the cinnamon glaze off.

Dean smirked. "Hey, rugrat, help me clean this up."

She gave him a smug mien. "I am. I'm doing the dishes."

Dean shook his head and cranked the faucet on to heat up the water, then started collecting the other dishes to rinse and scrub. He could laugh at himself at how domestic he'd become. But Dean didn't begrudge, or regret it. He was happy, in all the ways he'd never let himself believe he could be.

After years of toil and hardships, he finally had the 'apple pie' life, and he didn't even have to give up hunting.


	30. Lionheart (Age 11-12)

**A/N: cheryl24 wanted to see some protective papabear!Cas. Also, I think we can picture Amy around 11-12 now.**

* * *

"Lionheart"

Amy exited the ether behind her father and landed on the side of a mountaintop, a few hundred feet below the summit. The air was chilly at this altitude, but the sunbeams were warm at the same time. She lifted her camera from where it hung around her neck and snapped some shots of the sweeping vista. She was making a mural on her bedroom wall of all around the world, though Amy hadn't figured out yet how to get pictures of under the sea. Maybe Uncle Gabriel could help her with that. He'd dropped some random comments about traveling under the ocean before. But in the meantime, Amy had to settle for magazine cutouts from _National Geographic_. At least the other photographs were hers.

She turned away from the forested valley and began meandering about the mountainside, snapping pictures of various flora, searching out the most richly colored plant life. There was little sound aside from her shoes crunching some pebbles and a hawk's cry in the distance. She didn't mind, though; the companionable silence between her and her dad was always steady, always a firm presence that was just there, like a sentinel she could always count on.

Amy turned around and lifted her camera, framing her father's profile as he stood near the mountain edge, gaze cast over the valley, his trench coat billowing slightly in the breeze. She snapped the shot.

She kind of wished she could take a picture of her dad's wings, too. Against the blue backdrop of the sky, the obsidian wing spans would be magnificent. But even manifested, the frequency given off by angelic wavelengths tended to mess up digital equipment. Still, she liked the picture she had taken.

The hairs on the back of Amy's neck prickled, and she suddenly became aware of what sounded like heavy breathing coming from behind her. She slowly turned. There was a cave nestled between some thickets a few feet away that she hadn't noticed before. She couldn't see anything inside the dark cavern, though. But she could still hear the heavy breathing.

Amy started to back away, but a glint of yellow pupils appeared in the dark, followed by a snarl and a creature leaping out at her. She screamed and tripped, falling backward to hit the ground as a wendigo towered over her. It was hideous—bones jutting out from gray skin, eyes so sunken they looked like shriveled pits in the sockets. It arched an arm up, massive claws set to strike.

And then a flash of tan came out of nowhere with the force of a tornado, and Amy watched her dad slam a palm into the monster's chest, throwing it back several feet to hit the mountain face. It howled upon impact, a few chunks of granite falling to the ground with the beast. The wendigo let out a gnashing growl and struggled to get up.

A blue aura blazed forth as an angel's grace crackled on the air. Massive wings snapped taut with a strike of lightning above that illuminated the tenebrous shadows.

Whimpering, the wendigo began to retreat back into its cave.

Castiel spun around and dropped down in front of Amy. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently.

She gave a jerky head shake. She wasn't hurt, just surprised.

"Stay here." He stood swiftly, angel blade dropping into his hand, and strode into the cave.

Amy slowly got to her feet, clutching her camera uncertainly as she waited. She thought she heard a muffled howl, and then there was a bright flare of blue from deep inside the tunnel. A few minutes later, a figure smaller than the wendigo emerged into the sunlight, angel blade snaking back up his sleeve. When he held out his hand for hers, she took it, and they slipped into the ether together.

Amy craned her head back to study her father's face as they flew through the iridescent currents toward home. He was fearless and valiant, and someday, she was going to be a warrior just like him.


	31. Cupid's Helper

**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! mckydstarlight requested a fic with Charlie and a surprise** **party for someone.** **Also, thank you guest for your review of the last chapter!**

* * *

"Cupid's Helper"

Charlie typed out the last string of code, hit save, and then exported the file so she could send it in to the company she was freelancing for. A new email popped up in her inbox right after she'd finished, and she automatically opened it out of habit. It was from her god-niece, asking for help on something 'really important' and that she couldn't tell Amy's parents about it.

Charlie frowned. Well, she knew it couldn't be anything dire; that wasn't what she got called in to help for. Her curiosity was definitely piqued, and she sent back a quick email asking if Amy could talk over the phone or if they needed to meet in person.

A minute later, she got a response asking if she could come to the bunker. Charlie replied yes, that she would come right away, then paused before hitting Send. " _Everything okay?_ " she added.

Charlie then busied herself with packing a bag, which didn't take long. Once done, she went back to her computer and found another email.

" _Valentine's Day is this weekend and Mom and Dad aren't doing anything to celebrate. So I want to plan a romantic night for them. You're the best at parties._ "

Charlie beamed. Yes, she was. And when it came to a romantic Valentine's Day, she was definitely more qualified than Sam and Dean. She packed her things into her car and started the long drive, brainstorming the whole way. By the time she arrived two days later, she had plenty of ideas on what to do, but she'd also wait to see if Amy had anything in mind first.

She used her key to let herself into the bunker, calling out to announce her arrival.

Sam came in from the library. "Charlie, hey! Did Dean forget to tell me you were coming?"

She waved casually. "No. I was passing through and thought I'd stop by." She dropped her bags on the floor in order to free her arms to give him a hug. "What's up?"

"Not much," he replied with a grin. "Things are pretty calm right now."

Charlie nodded. "Good." That would make party planning easier. "And where's my god-niece?"

As though on cue, Amy came dashing into the war room. "You came!"

"Of course I did," Charlie exclaimed, giving her a hug.

Sam quirked a brow at her. "I thought you said you were passing through."

"We-ll, I may have misrepresented that." She slung an arm over Amy's shoulder. "Mind if we go out for some girl time?"

Sam darted a suspicious look between them. "Just what exactly are you two up to?"

Charlie grinned. "Mischief."

"Don't let Mom and Dad take a case," Amy added urgently.

Sam furrowed his brow. "Okay…why?"

"Because," Charlie said, leaving it at that.

Sam eyed them for another moment before apparently giving up and shaking his head. "Okay, fine. And what do you want me to tell them if they find one on their own?"

"That they'll just have to wait," Charlie said, turning toward the stairs with Amy. "We'll probably be a few hours."

"Have fun, I guess," Sam called after them.

They headed out to Charlie's little yellow car and then hit the road toward town.

"So, any ideas on what you want to do?" Charlie asked, glancing at Amy in the passenger seat.

The kid pursed her mouth. "I looked up romantic Valentine's Day stuff on the Internet. A lot of people go to a fancy restaurant for dinner, but I don't think Mom and Dad will want to go out like that. I was wondering if we could set something up in the backyard. Something private and pretty."

Charlie nodded along. "Definitely. We could get lights and candles and flowers." She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in contemplation. "Neither of your parents really need to eat, so we don't have to do the dinner. How about a dessert buffet?"

"Yeah! Mom likes chocolate and Dad likes coffee. There are coffee desserts, right?"

"Right." Charlie veered onto the highway toward the next big town over as she made a mental list. They were going to have to hit a superstore for everything. "Oh! And music. We can't forget romantic music to help set the mood."

They continued to spitball ideas until they arrived at the store. Once there, they grabbed a shopping cart and made a beeline to the home decor department. Charlie snatched items off the shelf here and there as they caught her attention, quickly filling up the cart. They perused the snack aisle, but Charlie decided it would be better to get an array of desserts from an actual restaurant or bakery. And real flowers from a florist would be better than fake ones.

She should have realized how busy this time of year was for flower shops, and it turned out that the one they went to was out of roses in every shade. Charlie put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the remaining options. They might have to try another shop, though the likelihood of there being any decent roses left anywhere was slim.

"How about red tulips?" Amy suggested.

Charlie turned toward those vases. "Sure, if you like them. They're kinda close to red roses, I guess."

Amy canted her head in thought for a moment. "They're better than red roses," she finally said. "Red tulips symbolize eternal love."

Charlie raised her brows. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I learned about some flower meanings when I was learning about healing plants. I think these fit Mom and Dad."

Charlie smiled. Symbolizing the love of two immortal beings? Yeah, red tulips totally suited them.

They purchased all the florist had in stock, filling the backseat and rear dash with them in an effort not to squish any. Lastly, they hit all the local restaurants in town, buying the single best looking dessert from each of them. Charlie was really racking up the credit card bill, but it would be worth it.

Now that their shopping preparation was complete, Charlie drove back to the bunker.

"We have to find a spot out back where no one will see what we're up to," she said, starting to unload the car.

"I know where!" Amy exclaimed, and led the way, her arms full of plastic bags.

Charlie followed with her own load. They ventured into the woods surrounding the bunker until they came to a small grove nestled inside a copse of trees. It was perfect.

They set their supplies down and headed back to get the rest. But when they emerged from the woods, Dean was standing by the car, eyeing the contents dubiously.

"Hey, kids," he said warily. "What are you doing?"

Charlie exchanged a look with Amy, who sighed.

"We're planning a special Valentine's Day for Mom and Dad."

Dean's brows rose, and he looked over the items in the car again. "Wow. You're, uh, going all out."

"Of course," Charlie chimed in. Like she would ever do anything less. "Hey, we've still got a lot of setup to do. Think you can keep Cas and Ryn from coming outside or looking for us?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure. I take it this is why Sam has shot down us actively looking for a case at the moment?"

Charlie grinned guiltily.

"You need any help with this stuff?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nope, we got it. Just make sure Cas and Ryn stay put and don't ruin the surprise."

Dean held his hands up and backed away. "Mum's the word." He turned and headed inside.

It took three more trips to get everything from the car to the clearing, and once they'd finished, the next task of getting it all to come together definitely looked monumental. But Charlie was up for the challenge.

"Let's start unpacking this stuff," she declared.

Hmm…she'd forgotten some things. She pulled her phone out and sent Dean a text. " _Actually, could you set a portable battery-powered generator and some extension cords outside? And a foldable table? And two chairs?_ "

Several minutes later her phone chimed with a message. " _Done._ "

Charlie and Amy went to retrieve those things, and then they spent the next two hours getting the grove decked out in the most magnificent display. Charlie had thrown some amazing parties in her time, but this definitely topped them all to date.

She clapped her hands together. "Well, shall we go get the lovely couple?"

Amy grinned, and they made their way back to the bunker where everyone was sitting around the table in the study area. Four gazes immediately fixed on them when they entered.

"Are you going to tell us what you two have been up to?" Cas asked.

"Almost," Charlie replied cheerfully. "First of all, this was all Amy's idea. I just helped it come to realization. Now if you'll follow us." She gestured for Cas and Ryn to stand up.

They did so, exchanging a curious look. Dean and Sam remained sitting, but they shared amused smiles as Charlie and Amy led the way back outside. It was twilight now, the sky bathed in deepening dark blue and grey that shrouded the trees in a soft gloaming.

"Where are we going?" Ryn asked.

"You'll see."

Soft white lights twinkled in the growing shadows up ahead, piercing the encroaching veil. Cas and Ryn gradually slowed to a stop at the edge, and gazed around in wonderment. Strings of white lights spiraled up around tree trunks and then criss-crossed back and forth from the branches, creating a lattice ceiling of dazzling stars above a small dining table. A black tablecloth spilled all the way to the ground, and the top was laid out with several platters of various tantalizing desserts, most of them with some flavor of coffee incorporated. White candles were the centerpiece. Red tulips were everywhere, from vases set at the base of each tree, to single stems woven into the stringed lights up the trunks, and some were even laid out across surrounding bushes and the ground itself, creating a path to the table.

"Oh, wow," Ryn breathed.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Amy said.

Charlie pulled a remote control from her pocket and aimed it at her iPod dock, starting the first song in the romantic playlist she'd put together for tonight. Cas and Ryn continued to look stunned, so Charlie nudged them forward toward the table.

"For your enjoyment, we have a variety of chocolate and coffee desserts for your selection," she said with feigned formality. "Feel free to sample them all. The night is yours."

Cas slowly shook his head in amazement, then smiled at both Charlie and Amy. "Thank you. This is…so much."

"You deserve it," Charlie replied. She knew what Cas and Ryn had gone through to get here. They deserved everything they had now, and more.

She winked at Amy and cocked her head, and the two of them quietly slipped away, though they paused at the edge of the trees to look back. Cas held out his hand toward Ryn, who gave him a curious look as she took it. He twirled her into a dance embrace, following the timbre of the music coming from the speakers. Charlie grinned at the two star-crossed lovers wreathed in sparkling diamond halos.

She turned to Amy with a wide grin, and held her hand up. Amy beamed back at her as they high-fived. That was what she called a brilliant success.


	32. Nurse Amy

**A/N: NordicRivers requested Amy taking care of one of her sick uncles.**

* * *

"Nurse Amy"

Amy bounded into the vacant kitchen, Kit zooming ahead to her food dish and meowing plaintively. Usually whoever was up first in the morning fed her, but everyone was currently away on a case. Except for Uncle Sam, but he was coming down with a cold and was probably sleeping in.

So Amy got the container of kibble out and measured out Kit's AM portion. Kit wove between her legs as a thank-you before settling in to chow down. Amy then poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat at the table to quickly eat it. She was eager to go through the pictures from her recent photoshoot.

She put her empty bowl in the sink and went out to the library where she'd left her laptop. It was easy to get caught up going through the pictures, selecting the ones she liked and deleting the ones that weren't so good. But after close to two hours, she noticed that Sam had never come out. Amy paused in her task and pursed her mouth. Maybe she should check on him.

She made her way down the corridor to the dormitory and paused outside her uncle's bedroom. The light wasn't on underneath the door.

Amy knocked very lightly and cracked the door open. "Uncle Sam?" He never slept in this late.

She heard a moan from within, then a croaky voice,

"Am'? Somthin' wrong?"

She frowned, and came further into the room. By the light spilling in from the hall, she could see Sam was bundled under the covers, cheeks flush but the rest of his face pale. He squinted at her through bleary eyes.

"Yeah, with you," she replied. "This doesn't look like a cold."

Sam groaned. "Probably that awful flu going around. You should stay away for a while."

"I don't get the flu." She'd been around plenty of other kids at karate who'd sometimes have various illness, and she never caught them.

Amy crossed her arms and sucked on the inside of her cheek. She thought about calling her parents, but the case they were away on was important, and besides, Amy knew how to take care of someone who was sick.

"I'll make you some soup," she declared.

Sam rubbed his face. "It's okay. I'm just gonna rest."

Amy shook her head. "You need soup and fluids." She paused. "And something for the fever, right? Can I get it?"

He was silent for a moment, but then plopped his head back against his pillow. "Yeah, bathroom medicine cabinet. There's some Tylenol." He offered her a wan smile. "Thanks."

Amy nodded and pivoted on her heel to retrieve the medicine. She also dashed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, too. After leaving those items with her uncle, she went back to the kitchen to start making the appropriate kind of soup. There were cans of tomato soup in the pantry, but the rice she had to make from a box. Boiling water and soaking the bag in the pot was easy, though.

Once everything was heated up, Amy mixed some rice into a bowl of soup and set it on a breakfast tray, which she then carried into Sam's room. He looked absolutely miserable, struggling to push himself up in bed enough to eat. When he looked at the bowl's contents, though, his mouth quirked.

"Thanks," he said.

"Anything else I can get you?" she asked. "Set up Netflix?"

He sipped at the soup, eyes crinkling with appreciation. "Sure, that'd be great."

Amy grabbed his laptop off his desk and started it up, then opened the Netflix site and queued up the last show he'd been in the middle of watching. She waited until he'd finished the soup before trading the laptop for the dish. Then she took the tray back to the kitchen and decided to do the dishes, even her bowl she'd left in the sink earlier.

She went back to check on her uncle after that, and found he'd already fallen asleep again. Amy paused the laptop but left it within reach. She pulled the coverlet up over his broad shoulders and retrieved another blanket from the closet to drape across his feet.

A buzzing sound suddenly emanated from the nightstand, and Amy snatched up her uncle's phone before the noise could wake him. There was a text from Uncle Dean asking Sam to see if the lore had anything on people spontaneously freezing to death. Apparently the ghost case they were on was taking a different turn. Amy glanced at her other uncle. He really was much too sick to get out of bed.

Taking the phone with her, Amy headed for the library and checked the catalog for entries on the opposite of spontaneous human combustion. Unfortunately, it wasn't like there was a listing of 'spontaneous human freezing.' Still, she didn't let that deter her, and after a while, found a book with a page devoted to something that sounded like it might fit the details of the case she already knew had drawn her family's attention.

Amy picked up the phone and called her uncle. The line picked up after two rings.

" _Sam, you got anything?_ "

"It's Amy. Uncle Sam is sick."

There was a beat on the other end of the line. " _Oh. Uh, how sick?_ "

"With the flu," she replied. "But I'm taking care of him. And I found something in the lore that might be your monster." She leaned over the open tome to relay her findings. "Lausks is a winter spirit. In Latvian lore, he's why people's noses and cheeks get red in the snow—he pinches them. And he takes his axe to buildings to check if they're structurally sound. The house collapsed on top of the first victim, right?"

" _Uh, right…_ "

"This book doesn't say he's normally mean, but maybe something made him angry."

" _Maybe._ " Uncle Dean fell silent for a moment. " _You look all that up on your own?_ "

Amy huffed. "What do you think Mom and Dad give me for homework all the time?"

Dean let out a soft chuff. " _Right, sorry. You did good, kiddo. Thanks._ "

"Do you need me to keep researching?"

" _Not right now. You just keep taking care of Sam, and call if you need anything, okay?_ "

"Okay. You too. And be careful!"

" _You know we are._ "

The call disconnected.

Amy looked at the lore book and debated whether to keep searching for more information anyway, but she decided to go check on Sam again first.

He'd shifted under the covers and looked like he might be waking up. Amy ventured closer quietly until she was sure.

He blinked groggily at her, then smirked to himself. "Please tell me you haven't been standing there the whole time."

Amy rolled her eyes dramatically. "No. I've been helping Uncle Dean with his case."

Sam quirked a brow. "Oh."

"Ready for more soup?" she asked.

His lips twitched. "Sure." He hesitated. "And, uh, maybe some tea? There's some moringa in the pantry."

"For immune support. Got it."

Amy happily returned to the kitchen, heated up some more soup and some water in the kettle. The tea bag could steep while Sam was eating the soup first.

She brought everything back on the breakfast tray and carefully set it on his lap so as not to slosh any of the liquids.

Sam smiled warmly. "Thanks, Amy."

"Of course!" She looked around. "Should I get you a bell? Or I can bring my books in here to read in case you need anything."

He shook his head. "Looks like you already have everything covered. I'm good, thanks. Really, you're a great nurse."

Amy beamed.

She waited for him to finish his soup, then took the tray away. After washing the bowl and spoon, she returned to her research, making sure to check on her uncle periodically. Yeah, she totally had this covered.

* * *

 **A/N: Before anyone asks why Amy didn't just heal Sam, so far she's only used that power for very serious physical injuries. I don't think it would occur to her that she could heal minor ailments. And Sam wouldn't ask. Besides, then we wouldn't have gotten this kind of fluff. ;)**


	33. A Day At the Beach

**A/N: For Taylor, who requested a Florida vacation and swimming.**

 **Also, I hate to say it, but this collection of one shots is going to come to a close sooner rather than later. I hadn't meant to put an end date on it, but as it turned out, ideas for an adult!Amy series have begun to bombard me, and I even have one fic all outlined and ready to write. But first Amy has to finish growing up, haha.**

 **She's 11-12 right now, and I'll try to do a few more chapters of her at this age before I move on to some teen one shots. And by summer, we just might be transitioning to some longer fics!**

* * *

"A Day At the Beach"

Sunlight spilled through the numerous windows into the kitchen while Dean puttered around making breakfast. He wasn't used to the brightness, and the bunker's kitchen back home had a few more amenities than this place did, but he still had to admit that it was nice here in the beach house they were renting on the Florida coast. It was also weird for them to be taking such a normal vacation, but they'd earned it. Dean was getting better at letting himself accept that it was okay for him to have nice things—and take the time to enjoy them.

One thing this rental unit had was a waffle maker in the cupboard, and once Dean had found it, he'd resolved to make waffles for breakfast one of these mornings. The batter was all mixed up and he was currently slicing bananas to add to the mixture while he waited for the pair of lazy bones to get up. It took pouring the first waffle into the griddle and letting it cook before the tantalizing aroma finally lured them out of sleep.

Sam shuffled in first, hair sticking out in all directions, followed by Amy.

"Need more beauty sleep, Cinderella?" Dean asked, shooting his brother a cheeky look.

Sam tried to flatten his hair down, which of course didn't work. "It's the humidity," he scowled.

"Right." Dean smirked and transferred the first waffle onto a plate, which he turned around to set on the table. Let Sam and Amy figure out who got to eat the first one.

Amy abdicated first dibs by getting up and going to the fridge for some orange juice. Dean realized he'd forgotten to set the butter out, so he reached around her to snag it. Sam sleepily pulled the plate toward him and picked up a fork.

"Where are Cas and Ryn?" he asked, looking around.

"They went down to the water to watch the sun rise," Dean said.

Sam's lips quirked with a small smile, and then he dug into his waffle.

Dean finished cooking the second, which he gave to Amy, and then he made one for himself before joining them at the table. It always amazed him—this sense of normalcy. Found in the quiet moments.

After breakfast, they headed down to the beach to search for sea shells. Dean carried the pail while Sam and Amy went digging through the sand. Cas and Ryn had come over to join them, though they stayed a few paces behind, more like they were taking a leisurely stroll down the beach. Dean glanced over his shoulder and caught them holding hands.

"Look at this!" Amy exclaimed, and came running over. "It's a whole sand dollar." She held the grayish-white, round shell up for him to see.

"Nice find, kid," Dean commented. So many shells on the beach were broken or chipped.

Amy grinned, and went to show her parents.

Dean scanned the shoreline in consideration, and started picking up small chunks of driftwood he thought might make interesting pieces to carve. It'd be nice to have his own souvenir from this place.

After a lengthy hike and a productive search, they finally headed back to the beach house where Amy announced she wanted to make a collage with the shells she collected. She and Ryn retrieved the small bin of art supplies they'd packed for this trip, and set everything out on the table on the back porch. Dean settled into one of the wicker chairs on the opposite end and took out one of the pieces of driftwood he'd picked up, contemplating what he wanted to make. Something ocean themed. He took out his knife and just started whittling, trusting that something would start to take shape.

Cas slid into the chair next to him, content to just watch Ryn and Amy as they worked on their project.

Sam had grabbed a book and gone out to the hammock.

"Thank you for thinking of this vacation, Dean," Cas spoke up softly.

Dean glanced over at him, but the angel's gaze was still on his wife and daughter.

"You know," Cas continued ruminatively. "I've been around for a- a long time. But these past few years have held more cherished moments than the rest of my existence combined."

Dean was silent. He felt both humbled and saddened by that statement. Cas was as old as the Earth, had seen creation and divine glory and numerous other things Dean couldn't begin to fathom. And none of it compared to the here and now, with two salty hunters and two supernatural beings whom the rest of the world had tried to snuff out.

Each one of them had to go through a lot of pain to get to this point. But Dean wouldn't trade it; he knew none of them would.

"Same here," he said quietly.

Cas smiled.

Amy stood up from the table and came over to show them the finished collage of sea shells and bits of glittery coral.

"It's beautiful," Cas said, admiring it.

"What are you making, Uncle Dean?"

Dean held up the piece of wood, still in its rough stage. "I think it's gonna be a sea turtle."

"Do you think we'll see any sea turtles when we go swimming?" Amy asked.

Dean set his carving aside. "I don't know. But right now it's time for lunch."

There was a grill out back, so Dean roasted some corn on the cob and cooked some burgers, and they all ate outside at a picnic table. Even Cas partook of a burger. Gabriel had apparently helped him get over the whole molecule thing. At least Cas hadn't developed a sweet tooth like the archangel.

They waited an hour after eating before heading back down to the water to go for a swim. Or, well, Dean, Sam, and Amy went swimming. Cas apparently drew the line there, and he stayed on the shore with Ryn.

Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd gone swimming for _fun_ , let alone in the ocean. The water was pleasantly warm and the sensation of the tide rushing around his legs was odd yet somehow invigorating. Dean idly wondered what it'd be like to try surfing.

Amy was swimming further out, past the waves like the kid was half fish instead of half phoenix. And then she disappeared under the surface.

Dean waited for her to come back up, and when she didn't, his brain instantly started firing off with what kind of monsters might be out here, and he surged forward to dive down after her.

The salt water stung his eyes as he whipped his head around frantically, but then he froze when he finally spotted her—face to face with a manatee. Dean gaped in bewilderment as she reached out to pat the blubbery nose. Then she looked his way, and waved goodbye to the creature as she started kicking her way to the surface. Dean followed, breaking into the air above with a gasp.

"I wish my camera worked underwater," Amy said, treading water beside him.

Dean was still a little too stunned to form much of a reply. He couldn't exactly chastise her for his own overprotective instincts.

He finally found his voice: "Cooler than a sea turtle?"

Her face broke into a grin. "I still wanna see one of those. But that was definitely cool."

Dean had to admit it was.

A splash of salt water caught him in the face, even though they were away from the tide, and Dean jerked in surprise as his brother, the creature from the black lagoon, surged up from under the water and started pelting them with a splash attack. Amy squealed and slapped water back at him, and Dean took the opportunity to get around Sam and dunk his head under the water. If he thought his hair looked bad before…

By the time they finally decided to swim back, Cas had been going to town building a sandcastle. Except, sandcastle wasn't the right word for it.

"Is that the Taj Mahal?" Sam sputtered.

"A model scale of it, yes," Cas replied, as though it were no big feat.

Ryn had a fist pressed to her mouth, but it wasn't hiding her grin.

"Wow!" Amy exclaimed. "I have to go get my camera!" She ran up the beach toward the house.

"That's impressive, man," Dean said. Maybe tomorrow he'd challenge Cas to a competition. After all, Dean's whittling skills had gotten pretty good, and he bet he could apply them to sandcastles.

Later that night, they built a bonfire next to the Taj Mahal and settled in to look at the constellations. Dean never could memorize them, and so it was always Amy and Cas and Ryn pointing them out for him again.

"Did you see the shooting star?" Amy said excitedly.

"I did," Sam replied.

"We should make a wish."

Dean's eyes met Cas's, and they shared a knowing smile. There was no need to wish for what you already had.


	34. Wayward Sister

**A/N: demon19027 asked if there was a chance of Amy meeting Claire, so here it is! Thanks to Miyth for helping me brainstorm. ^_^**

 **And I hadn't stated it explicitly before now because I hadn't fully decided, but Amy is growing at a supernatural rate, so at this point, it's only been about four years since the end of "Burn It Down" when she was born (AU season 11 timeline). The 'ages' I've been giving were for appearance and maturity reference.**

* * *

"Wayward Sister"

Raindrops had begun to splatter her windshield by the time Claire guided her car down the long gravel drive to the bunker. It had been a few years since the last and only time she'd been here, back when Dean had killed her friend and surrogate father, Randy. Randy, who had sold Claire out rather than protect her…but she was past that. She was stronger now. Independent.

If only some people would realize that.

In all honesty, Claire wasn't even sure she should be here. But she'd had another fight with Jody about hunting and just needed to get away to clear her head. She'd driven three hours before realizing she was halfway to Lebanon, and from there it just seemed like the place to go.

Now that she was here, though, she wasn't sure she'd be welcome. Castiel had his own life now, his own family. Sure, he checked in on her periodically and they texted often—he'd gotten overly fond of emojis—but for her to just show up like this…maybe it was a bad idea.

On the other hand, Claire didn't have any place else to go.

Taking a deep breath, she tossed her hood up over her head and forced herself to get out of the car. Then she trudged across the gravel to the steps that led down to the outer door, and raised a fist to knock. Even from the other side, she could hear the reverberations echoing loudly through the metal.

Rain pelted her back as she waited several long moments before the latch lifted and the door creaked open. Claire was a little relieved when it turned out to be Castiel who answered.

"Claire," he said in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you. Is everything all right? Are you okay?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Can't I just stop by for a visit?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied her, and she had to resist fidgeting or ducking her head away.

"Of course," he said, and stepped aside so she could come in. "You're hurt," he bluntly added.

She knew she wouldn't be able to hide it, and so she pushed her hood back, fully revealing the busted lip and bruised cheek. "It's no big deal. I tangled with some werewolves. But they came out the losers, trust me."

Castiel frowned, but thankfully didn't say anything to that. Instead, he started to lift his hand. "May I?"

Claire blinked. "Oh, um…okay. If you want."

She watched him raise two fingers to her forehead, and startled at the instant evaporation of pain and soreness. Reaching up herself, she felt her now smooth lip and cheek bone.

"Thanks."

Castiel gestured for her to start down the stairs. "The Winchesters are gone at the moment, but I'm sure they'll be happy to see you when they get back."

Claire gave a noncommittal shrug. She wouldn't mind seeing them. They'd had some opportunities to patch up their rocky beginning over the past few years, but sometimes it seemed as though they were siding with Jody about the whole hunting thing.

Claire reached the bottom of the steps and hesitated. "Is, uh, the rugrat home?"

Castiel had told her about Amala not too long after the kid had been born. It had been pretty weird getting used to the idea of Castiel fathering a child with her father's body, but in the end, Claire had been happy for him, especially when she'd seen how much happier he'd become since then.

Bittersweet happiness, though, because Claire was never going to get that herself.

"Amala's in the kitchen," Castiel replied, watching Claire's reaction carefully.

She gave him a pointed look. "So do I get to meet her?"

He started to smile, and nodded. "Amala," he called as they moved into the study area. "Can you come out here?"

A moment later, a girl that looked about twelve came in from the corridor, chocolaty brown curls pulled back in a bouncing ponytail. Claire's brows rose sharply before she remembered that a half angel offspring would grow faster than a human. Doubly so when they were half phoenix, too.

"Amala, this is Claire. Claire, this is Amala," Castiel introduced.

"Hey there," Claire said. She'd seen pictures of Castiel's daughter; sometimes he was too proud a papa not to share them with Claire, though the kid had looked much younger in the last one he'd sent.

"Hi. You can call me Amy," she replied amiably. "You're one of Dad's charges, right?"

Claire arched a brow at Castiel.

"Um, yes," he replied, sounding slightly flustered. "Claire just came by for a visit…" He trailed off and turned a serious look toward her again, and there was a question in his eyes.

Now it was Claire's turn to avert her gaze. "I had a fight with Jody," she admitted.

Castiel was watching her with that shrewd way of his. "Because of…" He nodded to her face that he'd only just healed.

Claire lifted her chin. "I handled myself just fine. Getting banged up is a part of hunting."

"You went without Jody," he deduced.

"She'd rather I not go at all." Claire huffed and slid into a chair. "It's the same old argument. She wants me to go to college and forget about hunting. Like Alex. She got into nursing school. But that's not who I am."

"Why wouldn't your mom want you to become a hunter?" Amy piped up. "Hunting saves people."

Claire smirked. "Exactly."

"But it is dangerous," Castiel put in.

Claire rolled her eyes before turning back to Amy. "Besides, Jody's not my real mom."

"Oh," Amy said. "Where's your real mom?"

Claire's jaw hardened just a fraction like it always did when those horrible memories cropped up.

"Um," Castiel began, "Claire's mom was killed by an angel…" He lowered his voice. "So was her father."

"My dad died fighting for the greater good," Claire corrected. That, she fully believed and had come to terms with.

Amy stood across the table, looking like she'd just been told Santa Claus wasn't real.

"That's why I hunt," Claire went on. "And that's why I can't go back to a normal life, knowing what's out there. No one who's been the victim of the supernatural can."

"Claire," Castiel said softly, voice pained. "I know it's hard, but it's not impossible."

"Right," she scoffed. "Look, I know you guys have the perfect little life now, but that's just not in the cards for me."

Castiel lowered his voice again. "I used to think that, too."

She looked away. She hadn't come here for another lecture about trying to make a new, normal life for herself.

"Is that how Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean became hunters?" Amy spoke up softly, and Claire winced at how grave the kid looked. Great, had she just shattered someone else's innocence?

Castiel gave his daughter a grim look. "Their mother was killed by a demon when they were very young," he answered. "Their father became a hunter, and raised them to become that, too."

He turned to Claire. "Jody cares about you, Claire. And she doesn't want to see you go down the path so many hunters have."

"It's not like Jody has a completely normal life," she protested. "She hunts sometimes, and she takes in wayward girls orphaned by supernatural events." Claire leaned forward earnestly. "Even Alex wanted a normal life, and look what happened—vampires still came after her." She shook her head vehemently. "I'm not going to pretend there isn't evil in the world. And I'm going to protect the people I care about. Surely you of all people understand that," Claire added pointedly.

Castiel sighed, but didn't argue. "Well, you can stay for as long as you like. I'll go get a room ready." He tried to give her a supportive smile before making his way toward the back hallway, leaving Claire and Amy alone in the study room.

For Amy's part, the kid's brow was furrowed as though in deep thought, and Claire found herself surreptitiously studying her. She definitely had features that took after the visage of Claire's father, but in a way that distinctly reflected Castiel, not Jimmy Novak. Claire didn't know what exactly Castiel had told his kid about his and Claire's unique…relationship, though judging by his previous comment about Jimmy's death, he hadn't explained it at all. And Claire definitely wasn't going there.

"So…" she began.

"Is that how all hunters start?" Amy said abruptly. "Somebody they love dies?"

Claire hesitated. Way to make their first meeting go. "Most of them, yeah."

Amy pursed her mouth. "Would you teach your kids to be hunters?"

Claire's eyes widened. "Whoa, I'm a long way from having kids. If I even ever will." She doubted it.

"But if you did, would you want them to be hunters?" the kid persisted.

Claire shrugged. "No, probably not. It's not a life that you choose. It chooses you."

Amy fell into silent contemplation for a moment. "I don't think Dad or Uncle Dean really want me to become a hunter," she finally said. "But my mom's always been encouraging." Amy sucked on the inside of her cheek. "I would choose that life, because that's what my family does."

Claire snorted. "Exactly. I wish Jody saw that."

"Maybe she does," Amy said. "But maybe she's scared too, because she knows what's out there. Maybe she's afraid of losing another loved one. She lost someone before, right? Because most hunters lose someone?"

Claire's mouth turned down. Yeah, Jody had lost her son…well, her son had died from other causes, but then he'd come back a zombie and killed her husband. Not that Claire was going to go into detail with that.

"Yeah," she replied. "Jody lost her child."

Amy nodded. "I bet she doesn't want to lose another one."

Claire blinked.

"I can see why my dad and Uncle Dean get overprotective sometimes," Amy went on. "It can be annoying, but maybe I should give them a break."

Claire was still stuck on _"I bet she doesn't want to lose another one."_ Another child.

Claire had said Jody wasn't her real mom, but she hadn't actually meant it. She'd just been angry and frustrated. The truth was that Jody had been more than a custody agent or a matron of a halfway house. Jody had given her a place to live—but more than that, a _home_. And though it had been rough in the beginning, and Claire still struggled with the idea sometimes, Jody had also given her a place to belong, and a family. Even with Alex. After all, what sisters got along all of the time?

Claire turned to the child sitting across from her. Sometimes sisters had little nuggets of wisdom, too.

Claire stood up just as Castiel came back into the room.

"The guest room is all ready," he said.

"Thanks," she said, pulling out her phone. "I'm, uh, just gonna call Jody, let her know where I am."

Castiel looked taken aback for a moment, but then warmth filled his eyes. "I think that's a good idea. Come on, Amala, why don't we make something for dinner?"

"I think we'd be better off ordering pizza," the kid said dubiously.

"The last time I cooked wasn't that bad," he protested.

Amy scrunched her nose up. "Dad, Nutella does not belong on chicken."

"Dean liked it."

She rolled her eyes as the two of them started toward the kitchen.

Claire couldn't hold back a grin, but it quickly turned sober as she pulled out her phone and drew up her contacts, then hit dial.

"Hi…Mom."


	35. Prank War

**A/N: For xanadu96, who thought Amy and Gabriel would have fun pranking the Winchesters. This can't end well… XD**

* * *

"Prank War"

What started out as a pretty quiet Saturday morning was quickly shattered when Sam came storming into the kitchen. "Dean!"

Dean paused in his task of cleaning out the coffee grinder and raised his brows dubiously at his brother. "What?"

Sam's cheeks were red and fuming, and he was scratching uncontrollably at his chest and under the arms.

"Itching powder? Really?" Sam snapped.

Dean just gave him a blank look, but after watching Sam twist and contort in order to reach unruly places, Dean busted out laughing. Oh, that was good.

Sam shot him a scathing glower. "What are you, twelve?"

It took him a moment to tamp down his laughter to mere chuckles. "Wasn't me," he swore.

Sam scowled. "Yeah right. Just stay out of my room." He pivoted sharply and left, probably to go shower. Again.

Dean snickered to himself. Setting the coffee grinder aside, he made his way down the hall to the juncture near the shower room, and crossed his arms when he found his niece peeking around the corner.

"Itching powder, nice," he commented.

Amy jumped, and shot him a deer-caught-in-headlights look.

Dean made the A-okay gesture. "Classic."

She relaxed, a small grin tugging at her mouth. "You won't tell?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Nah. But—" He fixed her with a stern glare and jabbed a finger at her. "—you try anything like that on me and I will find you." He let the warning hang in the air for a moment before he turned and headed back to the kitchen, enjoying the image of Sam scratching like a flea-bitten dog. He might have to watch his back for a bit, if Sam thought he was behind the prank. Dean wasn't worried, though.

Until the next day when he got his laptop out to watch some Japanese anime. Only, when he pulled up the window, a giant laughing face of Gabriel popped out of nowhere with a raucous holler that nearly gave him a heart attack.

Dean swore under his breath and frantically pushed the esc key, but it didn't go away. In fact, more heads popped up, filling the screen with a dozen laughing Gabriels. Dean slammed the laptop closed and surged to his feet.

"Alright, very funny!"

He heard a giggle from nearby, and whirled toward it, eyes narrowing on the head peering around the corner. "Amy," he growled.

She jumped out from behind the support pillar. "It wasn't me, it was Gabriel!"

Said archangel stepped out from hiding as well and shot her a look of mock outrage. "Traitor."

She gave him a guilty shrug.

"You gave him the password to my laptop?" Dean accused.

Her lips twitched. "It was kinda funny."

Oh, Dean was so not amused. He glared at his niece and the Trickster. Two could play at that game.

The next day, he went out and bought those Harry Potter, weird flavored jelly beans, the kind that you didn't know would taste like cotton candy or spoiled milk. He also bought the regular kind, and dumped them out so he could put the mystery ones in a normal box.

When he got home from the store, he gave them to Amy in between unpacking the other groceries. Kid never even saw it coming, and Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as she dumped a handful of jelly beans in her palm and knocked them back all at once.

And spit them out a second later.

"Those are disgusting!" Amy made more gagging noises.

Dean pulled out the empty box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and waggled it so she could see. She shot him a hurt look.

"Serves you right for letting Gabriel on my laptop. I've been at this way longer than you have, kiddo."

Amy tossed the jelly beans in the trash and sulked off.

Dean thought that might have been the end of it, but he should have known better. Amy had a Trickster archangel on her side, and Gabriel was too mischievous for their own good.

Dean and Sam were sitting at the map table, Sam on his laptop and Dean cleaning his gun. He heard a rush of wing beats overhead, but before he could fully look up, something round and flat-ish came plummeting down and landed on his head, splattering sticky gunk all over his hair and face. A berry tang filled his mouth where it had gotten in.

There was another simultaneous splat and Sam let out a surprised yelp. Dean wiped red fruit filling from his eyes, and saw his brother covered in the same, with a broken pieces of pie crust stuck to his hair and a tin on the map table. The gun Dean had been cleaning was also covered, and man, was that going to be a bitch to clean!

Laughter rang from above, and Dean squinted up at Amy and Gabriel giving each other a high-five. He was so stunned by the tart cherry on his tongue that he couldn't form any words, though he was definitely about ready to explode.

Gabriel grinned cheekily down at them. "You may be good, Dean Winchester, but I'm the original Trickster." He bowed with dramatic flourish, and then he and Amy flitted away.

Dean shared a fuming look with Sam as they tried to wipe more pie filling off their faces. This was so not over.

…

Dean baked a cake. Decorated it with frosting and sprinkles and set it out in the library. Then he cut four slices and set them on paper plates, putting two in front of him and Sam where they were sitting. It didn't take long for the treat to draw in Amy and Gabriel.

The archangel crossed his arms and scoffed at them. "Really, guys. You think we're gonna fall for this?"

"Fall for what?" Dean replied. "I didn't ask you to come in here and have some. In fact, you _can't_ have any."

Gabriel snorted. "Ye-ah, reverse psychology doesn't work on the pros. You two haven't taken a bite yet, so this little setup you have here—" He twirled his finger around at them. "—Is pretty obvious."

Dean ignored the archangel and focused on his magazine.

"You know," Amy spoke up with a hint of slyness in her tone. "I saw Uncle Dean make a pie, too. And hide it."

Dean straightened. "Hey, you stay away from that pie."

Gabriel's eyes lit up. "Now that sounds like fun. Come on, squirt."

Dean glared daggers at their backs as they strode off toward the kitchen, but didn't follow. Sam tossed him an uncertain look, but Dean just waited. A few minutes later, there was a cacophonous shout and colorful cursing.

Grinning smugly, Dean pulled the slice of cake toward him and jabbed his fork into it. After all, it hadn't been the target when he'd swapped out the sugar with salt when baking it. Sam's mouth curved upward, and he dug into his slice as well.

…

The next day, however, took things to a whole new level. Dean had gone out to the garage to do some maintenance on Baby, only to nearly have a coronary when he flicked on the lights.

"Gabriel!" he bellowed.

Sam came barreling through the doors, wide-eyed and panting, and his jaw dropped open.

The Impala was _pink_.

"Hey, look," he heard Gabriel say. "Dean's face is the same shade as the car."

Dean whirled around to find the archangel and Amy leaning against the tool bench. "Change it back!" he snarled.

"I think it's a good look, personally."

Dean felt like steam could have been coming out of his ears, and he clenched his fists. "That's it. This is war."

Gabriel barked out a laugh. "You're out of your league, boys."

Dean was ready to prove him wrong, and Gabriel had crossed a line. So the gloves were coming off.

"Dean, are you sure about this?" Sam asked as he helped put together the stink bombs. "We live here."

"Wear a gas mask," he retorted. He rigged up pouches with slime and feathers to blow with the bombs, essentially skunking and feathering their targets.

Armed with his revenge, he and Sam headed into the war room. Dean didn't even care about getting the drop on Gabriel at this point; the moment he saw him, he would strike.

He didn't even have to wait that long, because Gabriel and Amy jumped out from the study area just as Dean and Sam reached the middle of the room. They both threw what looked like water balloons at the same moment Dean and Sam chucked their bombs, everything meeting in the air midway and exploding on impact. Bursts of slimy feathers, glitter, and the most horrendous stench ever, rained down on all four of them.

There were coughs and gagging and groaning before the cloud settled, and each and every one of them was covered in disgusting gunk and reeked to high heaven.

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "Oh, come on!"

"Ugh, this is so gross!" Amy whined.

"Serves you right," Dean snipped. He didn't really care so much at the moment that he was covered in glitter and slime.

Sam wiped goop from his eyes and shot him a bitch-face.

"What the hell is going on in here?" a loud voice startled them all. Dean hadn't even heard the outer door creak open.

Ryn was standing on the catwalk, hands on the bannister and glaring down at them. Cas was behind her, looking absolutely stymied.

"Don't look at me," Gabriel retorted. "Dean brought the stink bomb."

"You started it."

"I don't care who started it," Ryn interrupted. "It's over. And you're going to clean all this up." She scrunched her nose.

Gabriel took a sliding step backward. "Yeah, I'll just—"

Ryn snapped a fiery glare toward him, and Dean thought he could hear a crackle in the air. "Don't even think about it."

"Right." The archangel waved his hand around at the mess. "Getting right on it."

Ryn fixed that glare on each of them. "All of you."

Dean grumbled under his breath as he and Sam headed for the storage closet to get some mops and buckets. "And you're fixing my car," he growled at Gabriel.

"Yeah, yeah," the Trickster muttered. "You think I want the Alpha phoenix pissed at me?"

Dean chanced a look up at the catwalk where Ryn was still fuming. He shuddered and quickened his pace.

He didn't, either.


	36. Family Reunion

**A/N: A guest and xanadu96 wanted to see Bobby again, so here he is!**

* * *

"Family Reunion"

A knock at the door made Bobby look up from his magazine in bewilderment. What the…? Angels didn't knock. But who else would be outside his personal Heaven? It wasn't like he got visitors.

The series of raps came again, and Bobby got to his feet warily. "Come in?"

He heard the door creak open, and a moment later a sprightly young girl with dark chocolate hair came into his living room.

"Hi, Bobby," she greeted.

He blinked in dismay. "Well now…you've grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you."

Amy grinned. "Dad always says I'm growing up too fast. But I'll be ready to hunt soon."

Bobby moved his mouth soundlessly at that. Oh boy. That was one piece of family drama he was glad not to be a part of.

He glanced down the hall that didn't really end at his front door. "Why didn't you just fly in here?"

Amy quirked a brow at him like that was a ridiculous question—she sure did take after her father. "That'd be rude."

Bobby let out a small snort. At least the next generation of angels had some manners.

"So what brings you by? Surely you've got better things to do than visit an old man." Not that he didn't appreciate a change in the monotony. It may be Heaven, but it sure could be boring.

"It's Uncle Dean's birthday tomorrow," Amy replied. "And I wanted to give him something special."

Bobby raised his brows dubiously. "I'm sure Sam would have better insight on that than me."

Her face broke into a wide grin. "No, you are the gift."

"Excuse me?"

"Sam and Dean just finished a case that was yours 'back in the day.'"

Bobby could hear the 'air quotes' in her voice.

"And when they got back, they started talking about you and some of the good times you all used to have," Amy went on. "So I thought it'd be nice if they could talk to you again."

Bobby was taken aback. He did miss those boys, the only thing that made his heaven incomplete.

"Well, ah, I'd like to talk to them, too," he said. "You got a psychic on standby or somethin'?"

"I don't need a psychic," Amy declared, and went to his old television set to switch it on. The screen filled with static snow.

"Uncle Gabriel showed me how to do this," she explained as she adjusted the rabbit ears. The static fizzled out to be replaced with some scenery of an old library.

"Hello?" Amy called loudly. "Can anyone hear me?"

"Amy?" a distant voice responded.

"Yes! Uncle, Dean, over here."

"Over where?"

Bobby watched as a familiar figure in plaid passed in front of the screen and disappeared from view again.

"No, go back!"

Dean backtracked into the frame, looking around in confusion.

"The TV on top of the book cabinet," Amy instructed.

Dean's gaze snapped straight forward, eyes widening in alarm. "Are you telling me you got stuck _in the TV_? _Sammy_!"

Bobby huffed while Amy glanced up at him to roll her eyes.

"I'm not in the TV; I'm in Heaven! I'm calling you _through_ the TV."

"Wait, you're in Heaven? Are you okay?" Dean fired rapidly.

"What's wrong?" Sam's voice came through the speaker, and a moment later he came into view as well.

"Nothing's wrong," Amy said loudly. "I wanted to do something special for Uncle Dean's birthday. So, here…" She waved Bobby over, and so he cleared his throat and stepped into the frame.

"Hey there, fellas."

Their brows shot up in disbelief and amazement.

"Bobby?" Sam breathed.

"In the flesh. Or, well…" He shrugged. "It's good to see you both."

It'd been a few years since he'd last spoken to them, and while he'd briefly gotten to see Sam when the reckless boy had broken into Heaven to extract some fraggle Scribe, Bobby had only gotten to hear Dean's voice over the psychic's connection.

"It's good to see you too," Dean said with a smile. "How are you doin'?"

"Can't complain." He studied them both, the subtle signs of how they'd gotten older. They'd always be 'his boys,' but they were also men, with a young one of their own now. It was beautiful to see.

"I hear you just had a case that was once mine?" he went on, curious how that was. He didn't leave hunts unfinished.

"Uh, yeah," Sam replied. "You remember the Soul Eater in Grand Rapids, Michigan? You and Rufus trapped it in the house it was in."

Bobby's eyes widened. Oh, yes, he remembered that. "Aw hell, it got out?"

"New owners remodeling scraped through the wallpaper and the sigil you'd put underneath it," Dean explained. "But don't worry. We found a new sigil that could actually kill the thing, not just trap it. And the victims woke up from their comas."

"We also went back to the case you had in Tennessee," Sam added. "To take care of the one you trapped there, too. So neither of them can hurt anyone ever again."

Bobby let out a breath of relief. "That's some damn good work there, sons."

Sam smiled, but Dean's expression had turned thoughtful.

"You know, it was weird. When I was in the nest to paint the second half of the sigil, I could've sworn I saw you there for a split moment."

Bobby blinked, his own memory taking him back there to that creepy-as-hell house and the visions of his boys dead on the stairs. But then there'd been that brief moment near the end where he'd gotten a glimpse of Dean, not dead, and… _older_. Like he was now.

"I remember that," he breathed in awe. "I thought you were just a vision to mess with me."

"Same here."

"Wait," Amy interjected. "Are you saying you both think you actually saw each other? How is that possible?"

Dean shrugged.

Sam pursed his mouth contemplatively. "Well, the nest was out of time, right? So, maybe you both were there at the same, well, moment."

Bobby shook his head. That was a bit too out there to wrap his head around.

"Well, thanks for tying up that loose end there," he said.

Dean canted his head in acknowledgement. "No problem. How many times did you cover our asses?"

Sam chuckled. "Like when you got Ghost Sickness."

Dean bristled. "Hey, we don't talk about that."

"I want to hear that story!" Amy exclaimed.

Bobby smirked, but he let Sam and Dean regale the kid with that tale. Or, rather, Sam trying to tell it and Dean arguing that he hadn't been _that_ scared. The brotherly bickering was like music to Bobby's old soul, and he just sat back and let himself enjoy it. This may have been Amy's present to Dean, but it had been a wonderful gift for Bobby, too.

He reached over to clasp her shoulder, giving a grateful smile.

She grinned back at him, and he finally decided to inject some commentary in the storytelling. Plus, he had some pretty amusing anecdotes from when the boys were younger that he was sure Amy would enjoy hearing…


	37. Rite of Passage (Age 14-15)

**A/N: And here we enter the last phase of Raising Amy. :O She's grown up so fast! She is now 14-15 (in appearance and maturity, not years), and I have about six chapters left for this collection before it closes out and the next time we see her, it'll be for brand new multi-chapter adventures with the whole gang. :D**

* * *

"Rite of Passage"

"Why did we have to come all the way out here?" Amala asked, stepping to the edge of the cliff face and surveying the vista below.

Castiel came to stand beside her, marveling with a touch of bittersweetness that her height now reached just above his shoulder. She looked more like her mother every day.

"We didn't have to," he replied. "But I thought we should go somewhere that matched the significance of the occasion."

Amy grinned, eyes brimming with excitement and anticipation. She had been looking forward to this moment. Castiel, too, felt a surge of pride at the beautiful young woman his daughter was becoming.

He moved away from the precipice, Amy following, and took up position on a patch of grass.

"Forging one's angel blade requires a great deal of focus," he began. "You have to harness the energy of the ethereal plane and transmute it into solid matter that can manifest in this plane, all while shaping it under very high pressure."

Amala nodded. "I'm ready."

Of course; they had gone over it in great detail before now. Castiel took a step back, giving her space.

Amala raised her hands, palms out, and began to push against the air as she reached into the ether. A ripple formed in front of her, swirling into a mini vortex. Castiel watched her extend one arm and begin to extract some of the ether from its plane.

The pressure in the air increased, puffs of wind billowing in his coat. Amy's jaw tightened, but she didn't lose her concentration. A globule of ethereal matter began to take shape in her hands, fluidic and opalescent in its raw state.

"Picture the blade's shape," Castiel coached.

Amy rotated her palms, manipulating the floating bubble as it glowed white hot. Castiel watched his daughter bend it to her will, elongating one end to a point and fashioning the opposite into a pommel. He stayed silent now, letting her do it on her own.

When the blade finally had its expected shape, Amy summoned up her grace and pushed it into the forging. Blazing angelic essence flooded the core, transforming it into something solid and unbreakable.

Amy was visibly straining now, but did not falter. She pursed her mouth and slowly turned her hands, running them up and down the blade as she infused a tendril of grace throughout its contours, binding the edges together.

The pulsing light started to fade, and the air pressure normalized. Soon it was just the two of them standing on a quiet mountaintop.

Amy held the blade in her hands, now corporeal, the iridescent celestial steel glinting in the sunlight.

Castiel cocked his head at the small wing tips on an extended hilt. That…was not standard issue for angel blades.

Amala lifted the blade to examine it, turning it from side to side and testing its weight. She gave it an experimental twirl, and smiled. But then she seemed to remember her father.

"Is it okay?" she asked, passing it over.

Upon touching it, Castiel felt the thrum of her grace signature, a song unlike any other angel in existence. Thus, he decided, the blade suited her quite well.

"It's perfect," he said, handing it back with a proud smile. "It's you."

Amy beamed, and held it up to the light again. A sunbeam struck it head-on and sent prisms scattering through the sky.


	38. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"

Amy knew she wasn't like other kids. The most interaction she'd gotten with her human peers was in karate class, which she'd enjoyed a lot before she'd 'aged out.' Now, her only frame of reference for what teenagers were up to came from Netflix. She knew that most humans went to school and worried about things like crushes and video games and biology homework, rather than studying lore and monsters and the art of combat.

But watching their lives only made Amy more curious about what it would be like to _be_ one of them. Not that she wanted to give up her goal of becoming a hunter; not at all. She just wanted to see what it was like, just once.

So when she happened upon a rave announcement floating through a social media site, she decided to check it out.

Knowing her parents—and uncles—would never let her go to one of these on her own, she gave them the excuse that she had a collage project she was working on as a means of being dismissed from dinner early and locking herself away in her room to be undisturbed. She turned her music player on loud and set the playlists on repeat—something she'd learned from watching TV. Then she spread her wings and flew to South Dakota.

The rave was at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, and Amy's first thought upon arriving was to evaluate the area for monster threats. They liked to congregate in abandoned warehouses, after all.

The gathering crowd of people was quite large, though, and easily outnumbered any nest that might have been in the area. Of course, that meant there was a flip-side risk—that a vampire could easily pick off someone from the party without anyone noticing.

Amy gave herself a sharp shake. She wasn't here to hunt; she was here to have fun. And just because a monster _could_ use this as a hunting ground, didn't mean there was one.

She made her way through the line and into the warehouse where she was immediately assaulted by too-bright strobe lights and dizzying lasers. The music was deafening and rattled her rib cage, practically neutralizing all of her senses. She winced, trying to filter some of the chaos out.

Everyone was pressed together in a hot mass of bodies writing in sync with the music. Girls had glitter on their skin and in their hair, which sparkled in the waving lights. Guys wore neon glowing bands around their necks and wrists. There was a DJ set up in one corner, and crates stacked along the opposite wall where it appeared beers were being handed out.

Amy squirmed her way through the throng, nose scrunching up at the heat and sweat that permeated the air. This wasn't quite what she'd imagined it would be. She probably just needed to 'lighten up.' Finding a corner not as crowded, she proceeded to try and get the rhythm of the music and dance. The nice thing about it was people didn't need partners. One could dance alone, or some were even dancing in hordes.

But the heavy staccato beat and 'brrp' of the DJ's sound effects just didn't quite inspire the same groovy moves that classic rock did.

Amy eventually gave up and skirted her way around the perimeter of the warehouse. There was even a couch and lounge area where people were chilling and eating brownies. Others were popping back Tic Tacs. Amy pursed her mouth as she looked around, feeling completely out of her element. She'd hoped to maybe meet some people, make some new friends, albeit for only one night, but the raucous atmosphere didn't really allow for conversation. It seemed to be all about the drinking and dancing.

Disappointed, Amy decided to leave. But just as she was almost at an exit, the door slammed open with a bang and a bunch of figures rushed in with flashlights aimed right at her eyes. The music cut off abruptly, as did the wild lighting, and now there was shouting for people to freeze and not move. Amy would have flown away, but she'd already been seen, and a hand was on her shoulder and pushing her toward the wall.

"Police! Everyone stay where you are!"

Amy's stomach dropped out from under her. She couldn't escape now, not without revealing herself as something supernatural. And so she was swept up in the wave of police officers, having no idea how she was going to get out of this.

* * *

Jody signed the fifteenth report for the night and added it to the stack on her desk. Raids were good for cracking down on illicit activities, but it sure did make for a lot of paperwork.

She decided to get up and stretch her legs, and headed out into the bullpen. Which just happened to be crowded with a bunch of delinquent teenagers that had been hauled in on drug and alcohol charges. There was a line of them sitting on the floor along one wall while every deputy's desk had one sitting next to it while the officers got names and contact information for the parents.

Jody roved her gaze over the arrestees idly, but her brow furrowed when she spotted a girl who looked a little familiar. She was too young to have gone to school with Alex. Curious, Jody wove her way through the crowd toward Deputy Harris's desk where the girl was seated, shoulders bunched forward and head ducked down.

"Hey, Frank," Jody said. "Who do we have here?"

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "She won't give her name. And she didn't have any ID on her."

Jody's mouth turned down as she surveyed the girl. Why did she look so familiar? "I'll take it from here," she said.

Frank shrugged and tossed his pen down before vacating his spot. Jody didn't take his seat, but leaned her hip against the edge of the desk. "So, what's your name?"

The girl didn't answer.

"We need to call someone to come get you."

She squirmed slightly.

"Are you afraid you're gonna be in trouble?" Jody continued. "Because sorry to break it to you, kid, you are. Underage drinking and drug use is a serious offense."

She whipped her head up. "But I didn't do any of those! I just wanted to see what a party was like. It wasn't even that fun. I was trying to leave when the police showed up," she said miserably.

Jody felt a pang of sympathy for her. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "We still have to call your parents."

"Can't you just let me go home on my own? I promise never to go to a rave again."

She actually sounded sincere, and Jody had the feeling that maybe the kid had been scared straight by all this. Still, there was something about her…

Jody's brows rose sharply as it finally clicked. "Wait a second. Do you know the Winchesters?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Um, like the rifle company? Not that I own any guns," she added hastily.

Jody pulled her phone out to check her old text messages. She was sure Dean had sent her pictures of this kid… Yup. "You're Amy."

Amy's expression crumpled with resignation, which was confirmation enough, even without the photo Jody was now looking at.

"What were you doing at a rave?" Jody demanded incredulously.

Amy shrugged. "I just wanted to see what it was like."

Jody sighed and shook her head. Of all the teenagers she'd arrested that night, one of them just had to belong to the Winchesters.

She got off Frank's desk. "Okay, come on."

Amy looked at her dubiously.

"I can't very well arrest you and have you end up in the system." And besides, it wasn't like the kid had actually done anything illegal.

Amy's eyes lit up as she quickly jumped to her feet. "So, I can just go home? No one has to know?"

Jody snorted. "Oh, your parents have to know. So let's go. I'm driving."

To Lebanon, which was a couple of hours away. Oh well. This case warranted a personal touch, anyway.

Amy's shoulders sagged as she followed Jody out of the precinct. Jody made sure to tell Frank that she was handling this one and to finish up with the rest. He didn't question her.

Amy was silent and morose as she climbed into Jody's truck and they pulled onto the highway to head south.

"So, where does your family think you are?" Jody asked after a while.

"In my room. I told them I was working on something and left the music going." Amy lowered her voice contritely. "I haven't been gone very long."

Jody frowned, until she put together the whole half angel bit and figured the kid must have flown to Sioux Falls. No wonder she wanted to just be released; she could probably get home before anyone noticed she was gone.

"How did you even find out about that rave?" Jody asked.

"The Internet." She was quiet for a moment. "How did the police find out?"

"Same. We monitor those sites, you know."

"Oh."

Silence fell between them for another several miles.

"Sooo…" Jody drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Party wasn't all it was cracked up to be?"

"No," Amy said morosely. "It was loud and obnoxious and smelled awful. Maybe it would have been more fun if I'd already known some people there."

"I guess it must be hard, not having any friends your age." Jody cast Amy a sidelong glance.

The girl shrugged.

Jody pursed her mouth thoughtfully. "You and Claire got along alright when she came to visit you guys, right?"

"Yeah. Claire's cool."

Claire had her own issues, but she was doing her best. Maybe it'd be good for those two to spend some time together. Jody would mention it to her adopted daughter later.

The rest of the drive was mostly quiet, and it was late when they pulled up outside the bunker. Jody wondered whether anyone would be up at this hour, but then again, at least two residents probably didn't need sleep.

Amy followed her to the door, head hanging. Jody knocked as loudly as she could, and heard the echo resounding through the interior. A few moments later, the door grated open and Jody caught a flash of silver from a small sword.

A man in a tan trench coat drew up short, throwing them a surprised look. "Amala? What's going on? I thought you were downstairs…"

Amy didn't say anything and wouldn't meet his eyes. Jody had an inkling of recognition that this was the guy who had dropped Claire off at her place those few years ago. Castiel, then. Amy's father.

"Hi, I'm Jody Mills." She held out her hand, which he shook in mild bewilderment after quickly tucking his weapon away.

"Of course, I remember you." His brow furrowed as he took in her uniform, then his daughter's dejected posture. "Someone want to tell me what's going on?"

Jody angled a pointed look at Amy, giving her the chance to come clean on her own.

"Um, I snuck out," the girl said under her breath.

Castiel's brows rose sharply. "What? To where?" He frowned. "To Sioux Falls?"

Amy nodded. "And I got arrested," she mumbled in a rush.

Castiel stared at her for a prolonged beat, then shot Jody an incredulous look.

"We raided a party scene," Jody explained. "Amy was among the teenagers rounded up. I thought it'd be best if I brought her home instead of putting her in the system."

"Um, well, thank you. For that," Castiel floundered. "Amala…I don't understand."

She lifted one shoulder. "I just wanted to see what other kids were doing. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snuck out."

Castiel's mouth pinched into a tight line, but he then gave himself a shake. "Sorry, come in," he said, stepping back and opening the door wider. "It's cold out here."

"I should probably head home," Jody said. And let them handle this family matter.

"Would you at least like some coffee for the road?" Castiel asked. "It's a long drive."

Jody wavered. Coffee would actually really help… "Sure, that'd be great."

They headed downstairs, and Jody roved her gaze around in interest. She'd never been to the bunker before. It was quite the underground abode.

"Amala, please go to your room and wait for me," Castiel said. "And _stay_ in there."

She hung her head in shame and hurried off.

"Don't be too hard on her," Jody said once she was gone. "I don't think she meant any harm by it."

Castiel sighed. "I know. But she can't just fly off like that without anyone knowing where she's gone. It's too dangerous out there."

Jody couldn't argue with that.

"Here," he continued. "I'll make you some coffee."

Jody followed him down a corridor to a kitchen. "Every teenager goes through a rebellious phase," she remarked. "At least she's not smoking pot under the bleachers."

Castiel quirked an odd look at her. "Please tell me Claire…"

"No, that was Alex," Jody quickly corrected. Not that Claire hadn't had her own vices…

Castiel shook his head and started up the coffee machine. "Being brought home by the police isn't much better."

Jody's lips twitched. "I guess not."

She waited while the machine whirred to life and Castiel made a fresh cup of brew. He then grabbed a travel mug from a cupboard and poured the coffee into it before handing it to her.

"Thanks."

"Thank you," Castiel said. "For bringing her home."

Jody offered him a commiserative smile. "Listen, even with the rough patches, they turn out all right. Trust me, I know."

Castiel smiled in return. "So I've seen."

He walked her back out, and Jody told him to give her regards to the boys. They'd have to make a trip to visit sometime in the near future.

As she settled in with her coffee for the drive back, Jody looked at the picture of her girls tucked into the driver's side visor. She'd be home by dawn, and maybe she'd make them breakfast, just to show she loved them.


	39. Driving Lessons

"Driving Lessons"

Dean slid into the passenger seat of the Impala and closed the door. "Okay, first thing is seatbelt."

"You never wear it."

Dean gave his niece a pointed look. "Do as I say, not as I do."

Amy rolled her eyes, but nevertheless pulled the seatbelt strap across her chest and buckled it.

Dean nodded in approval. "Now, key in the ignition."

She leaned over to see where the hole was and stuck the key in, then turned it. Baby came to life with a vibrating purr. Amy reached for the cassette player and switched on the radio. Rock-and-roll blared through the speakers, and Dean quickly switched it off.

"Never mind that."

"Hey, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole," Amy recited impishly.

"No music right now. You need to focus." He gestured between the steering wheel and the windshield. "Focus."

Amy huffed, but gave up on the radio and proceeded to check her mirrors before releasing the parking brake.

"Okay," Dean said, "put her in drive, and take your foot off the brake pedal and lightly give her some gas."

Amy adjusted the gear shift, and Dean felt the Impala lose its tension when she removed her foot from the brake. But then it suddenly lurched forward with a vroom.

"Lightly!" Dean shouted, throwing his hands out toward the dash.

Amy slammed on the brake, giving them a rocking jolt.

Dean grimaced. _Sorry, Baby_.

Amy threw him an abashed look.

"That's okay," he quickly said. "Just move your foot to the gas and press _gently_ ," he intoned to match his desired outcome.

The second time was much smoother, and the Impala started to crawl along at a snail's pace over the gravelly drive.

"You can give her a little more," Dean prompted.

Amy eased her foot down more, bringing their speed up to ten miles per hour. They made their way down the driveway from the bunker and started to approach the highway.

"Okay, for stopping, don't ride the brakes," Dean instructed. "Just bring your foot down gradually." He held up a flattened palm and mimed the action.

Amy copied it, and they coasted to a nice stop at the juncture.

"Good. Now take us out."

Amy looked both ways, though there was never anyone all the way out here anyway. But that just made it a good place to teach her how to drive. She pulled out onto the road proper. Dean probably should have mentioned using the turn signal, but, again, no one was out here.

Amy increased their speed until they got up to thirty-five, the Impala's engine rumbling contentedly.

"Good," Dean repeated. "Now, see that wide shoulder up ahead? Try turning around."

Amy took her foot off the gas and let the Impala slow down on its own. Then she braked as they neared the shoulder and gradually rotated the wheel, steering them into a wide, slow turn. Once they straightened out, she pressed the gas and revved them up to forty-five.

"You're a natural, kid."

Amy grinned. "When do I get to practice sharp corners and one-eighties?"

Dean's brows rose dubiously. "This ain't Fast and Furious."

"But sometimes you have to chase down monsters or escape demons."

"If there's any of that, _I'll_ be the one behind the wheel," he replied. "And your dad's Continental can't even handle those kinds of moves."

Amy sighed, but then perked up again. "Then do I get to practice shooting out the window while you're driving really fast?"

" _No_." Dean shot her a bewildered look. Geez, what movies had they been letting her watch?

"Let's just master the basics first," he added. "Turn her around again."

He narrowed his eyes in warning as she guided them onto the shoulder, and she didn't try to take the turn too quickly, but made it smooth and slow like before. She seemed to have a good handle on maneuvering and feeling it all out. Dean figured they'd eventually have to move onto a more crowded highway to practice merging and lane changing, but for now she was doing pretty well for her first time out.

Until a raccoon ambled into the road up ahead, and Amy gasped sharply as she slammed on the brakes. Tires squealed and Dean was thrown forward—damn that seatbelt he _wasn't_ wearing.

The Impala came to a jolting stop that really wasn't as rough as some of the ones Dean had put her through. Amy's eyes were wide and her knuckles white around the steering wheel. Out the side window, Dean saw the raccoon go skittering back into the field.

"I'm sorry!" Amy exclaimed, looking terrified.

Dean shook it off and patted his Baby's dash; she was okay. "Good reflexes," he commented.

Amy continued to sit ramrod straight in the driver's seat, like she was afraid to even breathe too hard.

"Bet that raccoon will think twice before crossing the road," Dean went on.

Amy flicked a sheepish glance at him.

"You good for more?" he asked.

It took her a moment, but she nodded slowly, and let out the breath she'd been holding.

Dean eased back into his seat—and buckled his seatbelt. That earned a twitch of lips from Amy, and she finally pressed the gas to get them moving again.

The rest of the driving lesson went smoothly, and they made it home without further ado.

Dean slung an arm over her shoulder as they headed inside the bunker. "Congrats on passing your first road test."

She angled her head up to look at him. "I really did okay?"

He nodded. "Better than Sam's first go. He _still_ rides the brakes."

Amy's mouth quirked with a small smile. "I still think I should learn how to do stunt driving."

Dean rolled his eyes heavenward. Kids these days.


	40. Feathers and Family

**A/N: Some wing grooming for Alexandr loell.**

* * *

"Feathers and Family"

Amy sat down on the smooth slate rock and crossed her legs. With her back straight, she closed her eyes, and the air behind her refracted as coruscating bands of light arched out and coalesced into corporeal wing spans. Castiel took a seat behind her and reached for one wing, carding his fingers between the feathers to align the ones that had shifted or split at the ends from being buffeted with ethereal currents.

Angels didn't need to groom their wings very often, but it was useful for upkeep. As Castiel worked his hands down through the silky obsidian feathers, granules of astral dust they'd picked up in the ether sprinkled free to the ground.

Amy had curled her other wing forward and was working on the primary flight feathers she could reach, while Castiel attended the ones in the back she couldn't. The iridescent rivulets of plum and mulberry in her feathers glistered in the afternoon sunlight.

The air on the mountaintop was crisp; its view above the low cloud cover that swept over the valley was tranquil and quiet. This had become their spot, ever since Castiel had gotten tired of the bird jokes back at the bunker when they tried to groom their wings. Angels had been created _first_ , after all.

He paused in his task to flick a look up at his daughter's profile, feeling the urge to fill the silence. He was never very good at it, though. And while Amala could talk animatedly about any of her passions, there were times when she settled into a head space too similar to Castiel—still and contemplative.

Companionable silence did suit them, but that didn't mean Castiel didn't also want to try for more.

He opened his mouth, faltered, and tried again. "How's that wing?"

"Fine."

Right. Good. He turned back to the feathers close to her shoulder blades and worked at freeing a few small ones that had gotten pinched in the slits of her jacket. He'd have to talk to Ryn about adjusting them. Or…

"Do you need a new coat?"

Amy glanced over her shoulder. "No. I like this one."

Castiel nodded, eyes crinkling as he ran out of things to say. "Okay."

She regarded him with mouth pursed in thought for a moment before her expression shifted as she seemed to take pity on him. "Did Uncle Gabriel used to help you groom your wings like this?" she asked.

"No. Gabriel had other things on his plate." Castiel hesitated. "Anna and I used to groom each other's wings."

Amy furrowed her brow. "I haven't met her."

"No. She's gone. For many years now."

"Oh." Amy ducked her gaze. "I'm sorry."

Castiel gave her a soft smile. "Anna liked to hum when she was doing this. Sometimes it seemed like she was playing a harp rather than smoothing our feathers, but it made the process enjoyable."

After she fell, Castiel had stopped the ritual care of his wings. Until he'd returned from raising Dean from Hell, and his wings had been in a sore state from sulfuric ash and brimstone. Uriel and Balthazar had helped him then, out of necessity, but only Balthazar had been kind about it.

"Balthazar and Inias, two others in my garrison, would always spend the time recounting our campaign stories, but with the most ridiculous embellishments as they tried to one-up each other."

Amy shifted slightly so she was facing sideways instead of her back fully to him. "Like what?"

Castiel paused as he thought back to those times, practically a lifetime ago. "When the Flood happened, the waters wiped out most of humanity, but the demons would not be so easily exterminated. So it fell to the angels to cleanse the world of them." Castiel canted his head as he tried to remember. "We had to take some battles underwater. Balthazar claimed that he slew a horde of demons while riding on the back of an orca."

Amy's brows rose dubiously. "Did he?"

Castiel snorted. "No."

Her lips twitched. "Did you ever embellish?"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm gonna ask Uncle Gabriel about that."

He scoffed. "Gabriel's the worst of all."

Amy grinned. "Uncle Dean's pretty bad, too. Every time he tells the story of how he killed Hitler, he adds something new."

Castiel rolled his eyes. Yes, Dean was never going to let up on that one.

Amy scooted around, facing forward again and letting her other wing drape behind her. "Will you tell me about those underwater battles?" she asked.

Castiel reached for the other wing and smiled as memories he hadn't thought about in years started to come back.

"Well, there _was_ a sea monster…"


	41. Eclipse Chasers

**A/N: I have closed requests for this collection, as I've finished writing out the last few chapters and am transitioning to some adult Amy case fics.**

* * *

"Eclipse Chasers"

Sam's feet touched down on coarse limestone, and he instinctively shot his arm out for balance as he teetered at the edge of a stepped pyramid. Amy had a hold of his other arm, though, and he recovered quickly as he got his bearings.

"Wow," he breathed, looking out over the South American plains, then at the Mayan temple they were literally standing on top of. "Hell of a spot you picked."

Amy grinned, and slung her backpack off her shoulder. "We have some time before the eclipse." She pulled out her digital camera and started fiddling with the dials.

Sam took the opportunity to explore the top of the ruins. Ever since he and Amy had started flying across the world to watch eclipses, he'd seen places that before he'd only dreamed about. To be standing on an ancient temple that had survived for thousands of years—not to mention several apocalypses—was incredible, as was the view from their position. Goldenrod plains stretched out in one direction, while lush green jungle crowded in around the temple from behind. Sometimes there would be a flash of vibrant color from a macaw or something gliding between the trees. Sam marveled at it all.

Amy took a picture of him standing next to the pinnacle in the center of the roof, and another with him standing at the edge with the plains sweeping behind him. The atmosphere slowly turned an ocher hue as the solar eclipse loomed closer.

They eventually gathered their protective sunglasses and settled on the ground, lying back across the stone, as the sun was almost directly above them. And then they watched the curvature of the moon gradually edge across the face of the blazing sphere. Amy lifted her camera and took more photos; she had a special lens just for capturing eclipses.

"It'd be cool if I could fly closer and take pictures," she commented.

Sam quirked a brow, curious. "Could you?"

"Fly closer? Sure. But I don't know if the camera would survive the ether, and I don't want to risk breaking it," she admitted.

Sam recalled the story of Icarus, and shook his head. "Better stay on the ground for this."

"Yeah. Besides, this is our thing. I'm not gonna ditch you."

Sam elbowed her. "How thoughtful."

Still, the idea of some cool photos was interesting.

The moon continued its journey, slowly devouring the sun. There was a diamond flash right before the moment of total eclipse, and suddenly the world was plunged into darkness. Sam took off his glasses and gazed upward at the dark circle in the sky ringed in orange from the sun's corona. It looked like the end of the world.

But what Sam had come to appreciate from these escapades was not only that they were rather frequent, but also ephemeral. Darkness may come upon them from time to time, but it didn't last, and they always came out the other side.

Sam bumped shoulders with his niece, reveling in the miracle that they were here at all. Amy just smiled at him, having no idea how her birth had been like an eclipse—filled with darkness and uncertainty.

Until the sun had come out the other side.

The first ray of light broke free at the top edge, and Sam put his protective glasses back on. He watched the moon continue its journey, watched its shadow recede and the sun blaze forth again, banishing the darkness. An orange haze coated the sky for a bit longer, making the ruins of the temple look almost bronze.

And then it was over. Sam sat up and removed his glasses, as did Amy, and she quickly packed up her camera. He knew she'd want to get home and look through the pictures she'd taken.

He cast one last look around the Mayan ruins to appreciate this moment.

"Uncle Sam?" Amy prompted.

"Yeah," he replied, turning to her with a smile. "You ready?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder and took wing.


	42. The End of Innocence

**A/N: Counting down! And I have the first Amy multi-chapter fic all written and ready for when this collection is done posting, and am currently writing #2. ^_^**

* * *

"The End of Innocence"

"Why did he say the drinks were six dollars when they were actually ten?" Amy asked as she and Claire walked across the parking lot with their frappuccinos.

Claire shot her a disbelieving look. "Because he was flirting with you."

Amy blinked, and glanced over her shoulder back at the Starbucks. "Really? But…he didn't say any cheesy pickup lines."

"Which is good, because those guys you want to avoid." Claire shook her head in amusement. "He thought you were cute and was being nice by charging you less."

Amy frowned. "Oh." And she'd kept arguing with him, saying she was pretty sure it cost more. Her cheeks flushed hot. "He must have thought I was an idiot."

Claire was beaming madly. "It was hilarious."

Amy scowled at her. "Well, I'm never going into that Starbucks again."

Claire laughed. "It wasn't that bad. I think it made him think you were even cuter."

Amy groaned. She had never been so mortified.

"Did you think he was cute?" Claire asked.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I don't know if I could even date a human. Most of them don't even know about the supernatural."

"You don't have to tell them. Just have some fun meeting and hanging out with interesting people." Claire paused. "Although, they'd probably have to go through Dean first. I don't know who would be more scared of him, humans or monsters."

"Not all supernatural beings are monsters."

Claire faltered. "Right. Sorry."

Amy shrugged it off and pursed her mouth. "You're right, though. Uncle Dean made a comment once about me not being allowed to date until I'm thirty."

Claire reached over and patted her shoulder. "Yeah, good luck with that."

They were almost to the end of the parking lot when a man stepped out from behind a van into their path. When he made eye contact with them, Amy was startled to see an angelic signature, though one she didn't recognize.

"Can we help you, buddy?" Claire asked harshly, posture instantly on guard.

"It's okay, he's an angel," Amy said. "I don't think we've met," she said to him.

His eyes were hard and cold as they bored into her, and a silver blade dropped into his hand. Amy frowned at it in confusion.

"Abomination," he hissed, and surged forward.

Claire sidestepped in front of Amy, but the angel merely grabbed her shoulder and tossed her aside like she was nothing. Like she was a human. Claire hit the side of another car before crashing to the ground.

Amy froze, all of her training forgotten in stunned stupefaction as he bore down on her. She barely remembered at the last second to throw an arm up to block a blow, her frappuccino cup smashing at the impact and splattering iced coffee everywhere. The angel merely struck out his other fist with enough force to send her sprawling on the asphalt.

Amy rolled onto her hip and gazed up at him, wide-eyed and terrified. "Please, don't! Gabriel—"

"Is a fool," the angel spat. He flipped his blade into an overhanded grip. "And your father is a disgrace. He should have been executed for his crime."

Amy sputtered in bewilderment and indignation. "My father didn't do anything—"

"He allowed you to be _born_ ," the angel seethed.

"I don't…"

"You are an aberration. Your very existence is a taunt to the natural order of the world. Castiel should have terminated you the moment he realized he'd committed such an egregious sin." The angel sneered. "I'm tired of Heaven running around pretending that you're not a stain that needs to be removed. You and Castiel."

He raised his blade.

"Hey, asshat."

The angel started to turn, and Claire plunged her Grigori sword into his sternum. His eyes blew wide as light blazed forth from his sockets and mouth with a guttural scream. And then it faded and his body dropped.

Claire stepped over him and reached down to pull Amy to her feet. "Let's go." She ushered them to her car and hastily climbed in.

Amy's hands were shaking as she fumbled with her seatbelt and Claire peeled out of the parking lot. All of her training, and she hadn't fought back like she was supposed to. Because of all the enemies she'd studied, it had never once occurred to her that she might have to go up against an _angel_. She knew there was tension between her dad and Heaven, but thought it had to do with things in his past. Not…not her.

Was it her, though? Castiel hadn't wanted to take her to Heaven for the longest time; was it because he knew the other angels hated her? But, Uncle Gabriel didn't…and she'd gotten along with some of the other angels in Heaven just fine, like Joshua. How could she have been so blind?

"Hey, don't listen to anything that dickwad said," Claire spoke up.

Amy startled. "I- I'm not…"

Claire cast her a sidelong glance, but didn't say anything else.

Amy fell back into her own thoughts, so much that she didn't even realize when they finally pulled up outside the bunker. She wordlessly got out of the car and headed for the door. Claire followed. It was probably too much to hope that she would keep what happened between them.

But when they entered the library and Castiel and Sam took in their expressions, they immediately asked what was wrong. Claire's face was grim as she walked to their table, presumably to explain.

Amy retreated to her room. She didn't want to hear it again. She climbed onto her bed and hugged her pillow between her chest and knees.

Sometime later, there was a knock on her door, followed by it opening, even though she hadn't said to come in. Her dad closed the door behind him, then came over and sat on the edge of her bed. He was quiet for a long moment.

"Were you injured?" he finally asked softly.

Amy shook her head, then straightened. "Is Claire okay? She got thrown into a car. I didn't even ask…"

"She's fine. A little bruised, but she prefers to wear that proudly."

He fell silent.

"Do the angels really hate you?" Amy asked in a whisper.

Castiel's face pinched with remorse. "Some of them."

"Because of me."

"No," he said firmly. "Because of me. I've done things in my past I'm not proud of. Heaven suffered a lot because of it."

"Things you're not proud of," Amy murmured. "Like me?"

Castiel's eyes widened, and he shifted to fully face her. " _No_. Amala, don't ever think that."

"Is it true, though?" she pressed. "Am I some kind of- of aberration? A mistake that wasn't supposed to happen?"

He reached out to grip her arms. "You are _not_ a mistake," he said fervently. His eyes crinkled. "Unexpected, was more like it. But also the most precious gift I have ever been given."

Amy looked away. What if he was just saying that because he was her father?

"Amala," he said gently, drawing her gaze back. "I've made many mistakes in my time. But I have never once regretted you. In fact, having you has lessened the burden of my past in some ways. I still feel remorse for the things I've done, but knowing how all of it eventually led me to your mother, to _you_ …then it's all been worth it. Even the bad stuff." He fixed her with an earnest gaze. "I wouldn't take any of it back."

Amy nipped at her bottom lip at the truth resonating in his words. "But not all the angels feel the same way."

Castiel gave her an aggrieved look and said sadly, "No."

She nodded. The foundations of her worldview had shifted, crumbling away what was and revealing something earth-shatteringly different. She would have to pick up the pieces now, fashion a new understanding of the world…and her place in it.

She unfolded her legs and set the pillow aside. "Is Claire still here?"

"Yes."

"We never got to drink our frapps." Amy scooted off the bed. "I should make her some coffee."

Her dad stood as well, giving her a soft smile, and started to follow her out of the room. At least there were people Amy could count on to see her through this. And no matter what anyone else said, it didn't change who she was to her family.


	43. Training Day

**A/N: xanadu96 was hoping to see Crowley again. He'll make an appearance or two in the next series, but here's one last chapter with our favorite King of Hell. *g***

* * *

"Training Day"

"This is a bad idea," Dean grumbled.

Ryn suppressed a sigh. They'd been over this multiple times already. "Amy needs field experience," she said yet again.

"We're talking about letting a bunch of demons intentionally try to kill her."

" _Attack_ her," Ryn corrected. "And she'll be giving as good as she gets."

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked in frustration.

"We've worked with Crowley before," she pointed out. "I think he's made it clear he'd rather have us as allies and not enemies. He's not going to try anything."

Ryn glanced across the field to where the King of Hell was gathered with six low level demons he had agreed to provide for this little exercise. Castiel was over there as well, listening to Crowley give his minions instructions. They were to come at Amy with full force, but neither side was to carry any weapons that could severely harm the other.

A few yards away, Sam was standing with Amy as she readied herself with a wooden staff.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Dean demanded.

Ryn crossed her arms. "Because I trained her. But sparring isn't the same thing as being in a battle. She needs to see how the bad guys fight, needs to learn to adapt to those whose styles aren't refined and disciplined like her own. And the only way she's going to get that is with first-hand experience. You know that."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered.

Crowley started to make his way over.

"Are we ready?" he asked, sounding chipper. Ryn wondered if he did it just to grate on Dean's nerves.

Sure enough, Dean glowered at the demon.

Ryn waved to Amy, who walked to the center of the field and took up a defensive position. The demons spread out in a semi-circle around her. Castiel joined Sam on the opposite side.

"Ready?" Ryn called.

Amy took a deep breath, and nodded.

The first demon attacked without warning. Amy brought her staff up and thwacked it into his chest, sending him flipping backwards to land flat on his back, hard. She spun away as the second demon charged, this time a hulking brute who barreled straight at her. Amy twirled her staff to jab the end into his sternum, but he caught it with both hands and wrenched it from her grip.

Amy's eyes widened for a second before he tossed the staff away and body slammed her into the ground.

"Hey!" Dean shouted.

Ryn grabbed his arm and squeezed. "On your feet!"

Amy looked dazed for only a split moment before she arched her arms above her head to plant her palms on the earth and push her weight into kicking up, landing on her feet again. The ogre charged, and Amy dropped to the ground and swung her legs around, catching him by the ankles and tripping him. His massive weight and momentum sent him crashing face first into the dirt.

Now two demons attacked simultaneously. Amy scrambled to her feet again and threw up an arm in time to block a swing. She followed up with an undercut to the stomach before breaking away and diving under the next swing being delivered by the fourth demon. Somersaulting across the grass, she snatched up her fallen staff and pivoted in time to strike the oncoming demon across the face and send him pitching sideways.

"Scrappy little fighter, isn't she," Crowley remarked.

Ryn pursed her lips to hide a smile. This was what she was hoping to see—Amy learning to adjust and adapt to whatever was thrown at her. "She'd be more deadly with a real blade."

Amy twirled the staff in a windmill as she turned to advance on her next opponent.

Crowley canted his head. "I don't suppose you'd want to up the stakes a little bit…"

Dean's eyes widened in horror as he snapped his attention to them. "What? No!"

"Based on what I'm seeing, she can handle it," Crowley said.

"Your demons can't," Ryn replied.

The King of Hell shrugged. "They're fodder anyway. I am curious to see what other fighting…capabilities…dear Amala might have."

Ryn smirked. She didn't doubt that. Crowley had shown an intrigued interest in Amy since before she'd even been born.

"The goal is for her to be able to handle herself without having to use her powers."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Come on, Crowley," Ryn said with a sly smile. "The fun is in the challenge."

"Hm," he hummed as he caught her double meaning, and dropped the subject.

Conversation stopped as they watched Amy tackle the last demon standing. With a few well-paced hits that were more true to polished form, she felled him. Six demons lay sprawled across the ground in various stages of moaning. Amy's ponytail had become disheveled and there were smears of dirt on her clothes, but she was victorious.

Ryn beamed at her proudly. "Excellent."

Amy's face cracked into an ecstatic grin as they gathered around her.

"Those were some impressive moves," Dean said, tone only slightly gruff from the tension of having to watch his niece fight off a handful of demons.

Her smile widened. "Thanks." She hesitated. "So, did I pass?"

"It wasn't a test," Castiel replied. "But, yes. You passed with 'flying colors.'"

Ryn's lips twitched; she could just hear the air quotes there.

"If you're ever interested in testing your muster further," Crowley interjected, "just give me a call."

Ryn and Dean shot him a pointed look, while Castiel and Sam frowned in confusion. Amy glanced uncertainly between them all.

"Uh, right. Thanks for the foot-soldiers." Amy looked over her shoulder at the demons still on the ground, and grimaced. "Um, sorry!"

"Why are you apologizing to demons?" Dean asked dubiously.

"Because she has better manners than you, Squirrel," Crowley answered.

"Like you care. You just called them canon fodder."

Ryn slung an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "You did great today. How about some ice cream?"

Amy glanced at Dean and Crowley, who seemed to be devolving into a bickering match. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Castiel and Sam exchanged a look before turning to follow.

"He's right, though," Ryn added. "When you're in a real fight, you go for the kill."

Amy pursed her mouth for a moment. "I know. It's just…" She lowered her voice. "Good and bad don't seem so black and white out there."

Ryn gave her a sympathetic look. It hadn't been that long since that rogue angel had attacked her. "No, they're not. But you defend the innocent, and you defend yourself. And hope you have the time and right information to sort out the rest."

Amy nodded. They'd trained and taught her all they could, and now they had to trust in that.

Ryn wasn't worried.


	44. Sweet Sixteen

**A/N: Based on a request by NordicRivers.**

* * *

"Sweet Sixteen"

Castiel tugged at the knot of his tie.

"Dude, would you stop that," Dean chastised, and stepped in to fix it. Again.

Castiel wasn't used to wearing it so constricted, nor was he used to leaving his trench coat draped over the back of the library chair. But he was taking Amala out to dinner tonight, and needed to dress for the occasion. So his suit was nicely pressed and he'd put on a new, midnight blue tie.

"Should we see what's keeping them?" he asked.

Dean snorted. "No. They're doing…whatever it is women do to get ready to go out. And men just have to accept that it takes forever."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm sure they'll be out any minute," he said to Castiel.

Castiel shuffled in place. They had restaurant reservations they needed to keep.

Thankfully, a moment later Ryn and Amy came out from the back corridor. Castiel turned to greet them, and blinked stupidly at the image of his daughter, whom he barely recognized. Dean and Sam, too, froze and simply stared.

Amy came up the steps into the library and slowed to a stop, her long evening gown of maroon chiffon fluttering around her feet. A sequined waist line separated the train from the bodice, which was made of sweeping silk studded with diamond-esque gem stones. A sweetheart neckline was framed by a neck strap, also glittered with concentrated rhinestones. Her brown curls were pulled up in the back, with several precise ones left to fall around her face.

Amy glanced at them anxiously. "Well, what do you think?" She picked up the sides of her dress and gave a half twirl.

Sam was the first to recover. "You look amazing," he said with a smile.

She grinned, and moved forward, heels clacking across the floor. "Are we ready to go?" she asked.

Castiel nodded, still trying to catch up with the fact that this ravishing young woman was his little girl. He met Ryn's eyes and they shared a proud, knowing look.

"Have fun," she said.

Dean stepped up and gave Amy a tentative hug, like she was a glass princess. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

She beamed at them both, then turned to Castiel expectantly. He took her arm and they headed upstairs to the car. They'd had a family lunch earlier that day, but tonight to celebrate they were just going to have a father-daughter outing.

The closest fancy restaurant was actually two towns away, but they drove to avoid mussing their attire in the winds of the celestial ether. That didn't stop Castiel from taking a slight leap once they'd parked so he could open Amala's door for her.

They headed inside and were quickly seated at a table out on the terrace, lit by strings of lanterns and heat lamps to keep the guests from getting cold. Not that two angelic beings felt a chill.

"What can I get you to drink?" the server asked.

"Um, water," Castiel replied.

"Coke," Amy said.

The young man nodded as he handed them some menus. "The special tonight is bouillabaisse," he informed them. "Let me get your drinks and I'll be right back."

Amy bit her lip and leaned over the table once he'd left, "I don't know what that is."

Castiel's mouth quirked. "Neither do I." He glanced at the menu. "Actually, I don't know what any of these things are. Except the bread rolls."

Amy shrugged and closed her menu. "Then we'll be surprised."

The server returned with their drinks, and they ordered the special. It turned out to be fish stew with Scorpionfish, sea robin, and European conger, which Castiel found texturally appealing. Amy seemed to be enjoying it, too.

"Thank you for this," she said halfway through the meal, almost shyly. "It's nice."

Castiel smiled in return. He knew she sometimes wanted normal things. Human things. And he was happy to give them to her when he could.

The air was warm under the glow of the heat lamps, and the lanterns cast golden auras across the veranda. Soft music filtered through some speakers positioned up near the eaves.

"Dad," Amy spoke up. "Will you teach me to dance?"

Castiel blinked, caught off guard by the request. "Um…" He glanced around. There were only a couple of other people eating outside, the rest were indoors, which left their section mostly to themselves. "I don't know much," he said as a caveat, folding his napkin on the table and standing up. "Your mother had to teach me."

Amy just looked up at him hopefully, so he held out his hand to draw her from her chair, and pulled her into a dance frame.

"It's, uh, about rhythm," he said. "And finding it." He started to sway with small movements, shuffling his feet as he tried to follow his own instruction and fall into the cadence of the music. Amy stepped on his toes.

"Sorry," she grimaced.

Castiel huffed out a smile. "There's also a leader and a follower."

"Right. I'm supposed to be the follower," she said apologetically.

Castiel pursed his lips, canting his head as he studied her profile. She'd grown up so fast. Blossomed into a beautiful and radiant young woman. He marveled at what he'd done—creating a new life and bringing it into the world. Raising her up to be a strong, independent force of her own.

Amala wouldn't be a follower. She would be fierce, and brave, a beacon of hope, for so Castiel had named her. Along with 'pure' and 'beloved.'

That's what his daughter was.

And she was going to take the world by storm.

* * *

 **A/N: I've got one last chapter for this collection and that will close it out. Thank you to everyone who's followed this for a whole year (wow!). It's been a joy writing these, and while I'm going to miss kid Amy, I'm also very excited to share the adult stories.**


	45. Faith Hope Love Repeat

**A/N: This last chapter is a song fic looking back on the family's journey throughout "Raising Amy." Basically, every time I hear "Faith Hope Love Repeat" by Brandon Heath, I keep seeing scenes from this collection, and since I can't make a music video out of it, I decided instead to do a snapshot montage with snippets from various chapters set to the lyrics.**

 **And Friday we'll start a brand new multi-chapter fic of Cas and Dean taking Amy on her first hunt!**

* * *

"Faith Hope Love Repeat" - Brandon Heath

 _I wanna build four walls, keep you safe inside  
_ _And catch you when you fall, don't wanna see you cry_

"Okay, come on, sweetheart."

Dean peered into the darkened tree trunk and watched Amy uncurl from where she was pressed against the bark on the opposite side, and then slowly crawl her way over. He stepped back then as Cas hurried in to grab her and lift her out the rest of the way. She was covered in dirt and hair mussed, but Dean didn't see any blood.

Cas dropped to his knees and ran frantic hands over her arms and head, searching for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head mutely, and Cas wrapped her in a tight hug.

Dean shifted, uncertain about butting in, but… "She said her wing hurt."

Cas's mouth turned down as he peered over her shoulder. "Did you try to catch your fall?"

Amy bobbed her head, biting her lip. Cas ran his hand down her back, then over the space behind her shoulder blades where Dean presumed her wings were, but, you know, not.

Cas's shoulders sagged in obvious relief. "It's not broken. Just a sprain, I think." He let out a stressed breath and wrapped her in another tight hug, cupping the back of her head. "I'm just glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you."

She raised her arms to hug back, burying her face in Cas's neck. "I'm sorry."

Cas held on for a prolonged moment, and then shifted to pick her up in his arms. "Let's go take care of that wing."

 _And when you walk down the street, make you hold my hand  
_ _I wanna lift you off your feet, be your Superman, Superman_

Castiel finally stood up and took his daughter's hand. "Hold on tight," he instructed.

"You won't let go?" she asked with a flash of fear.

"I promise."

He gave a tremendous flap of his wings and leaped into the ether. At first, Amala's wings fluttered frantically in the sudden vacuum of space and lack of ground beneath her feet. Castiel simply kept his solid grip on her hand and let her gradually find her rhythm between bursts of momentum and gliding on the currents. Her smaller wings had to exert more effort than his own, and after a few moments, he guided them out of the celestial currents to alight on a mountainside somewhere in Iceland.

 _I wanna take you for a ride, when you cannot sleep  
_ _Brush your hair to the side, kiss you on your cheek_

Sam blinked groggily as he glanced at the clock, which read 2:30 in the morning.

"Mhmp, Amala, what is it?"

"I had a bad dream."

Though still half asleep, he managed to push himself up slightly and switch on the bedside lamp, then rubbed at his eyes. "Are you okay?" He gave her a once-over, and she seemed fine.

Amy nipped at her bottom lip, quiet for a moment. "Daddy's not home."

Sam ran a hand down his face. Right.

But then with a soft smile, he scooted back on his mattress and lifted the covers up. "Come on."

Amy gave him a beaming look of gratitude as she clambered up in bed with him.

 _I wanna stay up all night, making sure you breathe  
_ _Oh, my God, what a gift, he has given me_

Castiel stood over the crib in the room the Winchesters had designated as the bunker's nursery, unable to tear his eyes away from the infant sleeping inside. She was so small, so fragile looking. Castiel marveled at this tiny life, still not quite able to believe he had helped create her, that she was his. Watching her sleep, peaceful like this, filled him with immense joy.

 _Yeah, I brought you into this world  
_ _And I'm sorry it's a little bit crazy_

Dean and Sam ransacked the shelves and crates in search of the artifact, heedless of knocking stuff over. Every so often something would reverberate through the vents with a boom, and Dean imagined that an entire mountainside might have been uprooted and dropped on top of them. His flashlight beam reflected off something shiny and metallic, and Dean snatched it up.

"I got it!" He spun around and started sprinting back down the corridor toward the library, Sam on his heels.

He almost tripped over a small body huddled against the wall in the passageway.

"Amy?"

Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she lifted wide, terrified eyes to him.

Dean quickly passed Sam the medallion. "Here, go."

His brother spared him a brief look before breaking into a run toward the stairs.

Dean knelt down next to Amy. "Hey, kiddo. What are you doing on the floor here?"

"There was a loud noise and it scared Kit. I went after her but the lights went out, and I couldn't hear anyone."

Dean grimaced. They hadn't meant to leave her alone; granted, they hadn't meant to bring a wrathful storm elemental to their doorstep, either.

 _But I tell you there is so much good  
_ _Though the future looks a little bit hazy_

Cas cleared his throat. "I think before we start that we should all go around and say what we're thankful for."

Dean paused halfway to reaching for the dinner rolls. Aw, really?

"I'll go first!" Amy volunteered. "I'm thankful marshmallows go on sweet potatoes, because then I get to eat candy for dinner."

The adults chuckled and shook their heads in amusement.

Sam started when he realized he was sitting next to Amy, and it seemed only logical it be his turn next. He rolled his shoulders awkwardly. "Okay, uh, I'm thankful my brother is such a good cook, and that he and Ryn made this amazing meal for us."

Dean almost wanted to make a smart-alecky retort to that, but the sincerity in Sam's tone stopped him, and instead he just gave his brother a small smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ryn folded her hands on the table. "I'm thankful for this beautiful home, and the life we have here." She looked at Dean.

Oh, that made it his turn. "Well, uh, I'm thankful the world isn't ending."

Sam shot him a mild bitch-face.

"And that we're all together," he added.

There had been too many times when they weren't.

Cas smiled, and gradually shifted his gaze to each of them. "And I'm thankful for my family. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this, but I'm grateful every day." He looked at Amy and reached over to lovingly touch the back of her head.

They all shared smiles at that. Dean was thankful for this, too. And he also didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but here they were, and like Cas, he was gonna cherish it every single day for as long as he lived.

 _But see God me and him have a promise  
_ _And he'll give us everything that we need_

"Do you know what you want to call her?"

Amala's mouth pursed as she gave it some serious thought. "Mhm, Kit-Kat. But Kit for short."

Dean threw a dubious look at the adults in the room as if to say, _"Really?"_

"I think that's perfect," Ryn said, giving him a pointed look in return.

Amala nodded, too enraptured by her new companion to notice the silent back-and-forth of the adults. "This is your forever home, Kit. It's a good home and you'll be happy here."

Ryn's gaze drifted to meet her husband's, and they shared a quiet, unspoken understanding as two fellow 'strays' who had also found a forever home here, with a family that had taken them in as their own.

Castiel smiled, and reached out to squeeze her hand.

It was a good home.

 _So have faith, hope, and love  
_ _Faith, hope, love, repeat_

Amy let out a high-pitched squeal, and Dean looked up to find her nearly getting swallowed by Sam as he tickled her mercilessly. She broke free, though, and started running back toward camp. Sam gave chase.

"Argh, I'm gonna get you!" he rumbled in his 'monster' voice.

Amy shrieked again. "Uncle Dean, save me!"

She darted over, and he quickly picked up a long stick. Sam came galumphing toward them, and Dean slashed the branch through the air.

"Alright, back you Abominable Sasquatch." He swatted at his brother.

Sam ducked under his next swing and tackled him, driving him to the ground with an 'oof.' Amy laughed shrilly as they rolled around in the dirt, wrestling.

"The Tickle Monster is victorious again!" Sam crowed.

 _Faith, hope, love, faith, hope, love  
_ _Faith, hope, love, faith, hope, love_

Dean got out the fishing rods Castiel had made a special trip home for after they'd discovered a stream close to camp.

"Let's see if I can catch us some dinner," Dean said. He cocked his head. "Hey, Cas, can you get the fish to swim our way?"

Castiel gave the hunter a bland look. "Do I look like the Trout Whisperer to you?"

Sam barked out a laugh while Dean rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" Amala called. "There are moons on the ground!"

They looked over to the trees where she was standing, then at the ground covered in crescent shaped lights scattered throughout the shadows cast by the branches above.

Sam went over, sweeping his gaze over the ground excitedly. "These are projections of the sun."

Amala's face scrunched up in confusion. "But they look like the moon."

"It's because the small openings between the leaves act like a pinhole camera," Sam explained. "And that makes an enlarged image of the sun, which at the moment isn't a full circle like usual."

"Oh. Cool."

Sam grinned. "It is."

 _I wanna show you the world, climb the mountaintops  
_ _Watch you dance in the rain, I hope it never stops_

Castiel stood on a sandy beach, wind whipping around the ends of his trench coat. The air was heavy with electricity and warm moisture, the sky a dark, pewter gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Amala stayed close to his side, posture tense with anticipation. A flash of light shimmered through the clouds. Four seconds later, the heavens cracked and roared. Amala flinched, but there was excitement in her eyes.

Castiel could feel the high pressure system roiling closer, the combination of hot and cold air igniting into plasma. This time lightning splintered across the sky with a snap, and the resulting thunder was immediate and booming enough to startle the eardrums. Static prickled the back of Castiel's neck and along his feathers. He'd told Amala to keep her wings tucked in.

Lightning forked down from the heavens and struck the beach several yards away. Amala let out a small gasp and jumped, but Castiel held her close. The thunderclap rattled their rib cages. Burnt ozone fizzled on the air.

And then it was like a duel of the thunder gods above their heads—whip cracks lashing to and fro across the sky. Two offshoots collided with overlapping thunderbolts. Castiel stood firm underneath the onslaught, a moored sentinel in the face of Nature's awesome prowess.

 _Whatever tomorrow brings, I hope it brings you joy  
_ _And when it's all too much, I'll hold you in my arms_

The movie ended, but Dean didn't get up, as Amy's head was resting against his shoulder. He craned his head to glance down at her face, and found her on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," he said, lifting an arm to drape around her. "Is it that bad?"

She sniffed. "It won't _stop_. I want it to stop."

Dean winced in sympathy. He remembered when he'd broken his leg several years back, how irritating and frustrating it'd been, not just to be laid up, but the cast had itched something fierce, and his leg muscles had struggled against atrophying. It had not been pleasant at all, and he hated seeing his niece having to suffer through something similar.

Dean shifted, drawing Amy closer against him in a secure embrace. There was one other thing he used to do for Sam when his baby brother was upset. Clearing his throat, softly, Dean began to sing.

He may have had the songs from _Tangled_ memorized from sheer repetition, but that wasn't the tune he chose. Just like with the tomato rice soup, there was only one song that fit the bill for situations like this.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better."

He kept up the low cadence, gently rubbing Amy's arm in sync with the rhythm. He felt her gradually still against him, lulled into sleep where she could finally get a break from the discomfort. Dean smiled, tilting his head to watch the distress lines in her face smooth out. She really was a little angel.

 _Yeah, I brought you into this world  
_ _And I'm sorry it's a little bit crazy_

Dean paused and quirked a brow at his niece. "What's with the flannel? And suddenly wanting to go jogging?"

"I want to do more stuff that you and Uncle Sam do," she replied. "So I can be a hunter when I grow up."

Dean couldn't help but stiffen. Deep down, he knew they probably should have expected this, but there was no way in hell they were gonna raise Amy to become a hunter.

"Whoa, kiddo," he said. "I'm flattered, really, but…you can be anything you want when you grow up. There's much better stuff out there than being a hunter."

She frowned at him. "But you're all hunters. And I want to be like you."

Oh, _hell_ no. This could not be happening. Dean shot a pleading look for help at Cas and Ryn.

Ryn had her mouth pursed thoughtfully. "It might be time to start some training."

Dean gaped at her in horror. "What?" he sputtered. "You can't be serious."

Amy clamored out of her chair. "Yes! I want to start training!"

Dean's mouth moved soundlessly in stupefaction. "Cas, come on."

Cas, at least, had a concerned pinch between his brows as he cast an uncertain look at Ryn.

"She's from a family of warriors," Ryn pointed out gently. "Of course she's going to grow up to be one."

 _But I tell you there is so much good  
_ _Though the future looks a little bit hazy_

Castiel shifted his weight nervously, not liking the narrowed gazes the other angels were targeting his daughter with.

But then someone was nudging their way forward from the back, and Castiel's jaw slackened in surprise as Joshua parted a path to the front. The aged angel took several steps toward them and slowly bent down to one knee in front of Amala.

"Hello, little one," he said, and only the fact that Joshua was considered wise among the angels kept Castiel from yanking his daughter behind him. He still didn't let go of her hand, though. "I'm Joshua."

"I'm Amala. Or you can call me Amy like Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean do."

Joshua smiled. "That's a pretty name."

Amala canted her head at his brown-stained coveralls. "Is there dirt in Heaven?"

His lips twitched. "Yes. I'm Heaven's gardener."

Her face lit up with interest. "Can we see the garden? Does it have the same types of plants and flowers as Earth, or are there species only found in Heaven?"

Joshua flicked a smile up at Castiel before returning his attention to her. "Those are very good questions." He straightened. "Let's go see."

Amala shot Castiel an exasperated look when he still didn't release her hand, so he moved to follow them, still casting wary glances at the other angels. With Joshua's approval, though, some of their hostility was beginning to shift to confusion and uncertainty. It was progress, he supposed.

 _But see God me and him have a promise  
_ _And he'll give us everything that we need_

Castiel smoothed out the purple coverlet and then sat on the edge of the bed. "What kind of story?"

"How about when Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean saved the world."

Castiel's lips twitched. "Alright. Once upon a time, many years ago, there were two brothers. They were very special brothers, chosen ones in a great conflict that would decide the fate of the world. But the problem was that each side in the great war chose one brother for themselves, and wanted them to fight each other. The Righteous Man, Heaven's chosen, didn't believe he was worthy. The Boy with the Demon Blood had a heart too pure and good to side with Hell."

"What did they do?"

"Well, they decided that they would change destiny. That neither Heaven nor Hell had the right to determine the fate of the world and the humans who lived in it. Armies of angels and demons constantly pursued them, until Sam and Dean ended up face to face with the Devil himself. The Devil tried to take Sam, but the brothers' love gave them the strength to stand fast. Sam fought back Lucifer and cast him into the Cage, stopping the Apocalypse and saving the world."

Amala smiled. "I like that story."

Castiel's expression softened. "Me too."

"You left out one of the most important characters," a new voice spoke up from behind.

Castiel half turned to find Dean standing in the doorway and leaning against the frame.

"Your dad was there, too." Dean pushed away from the doorjamb and came the rest of the way into the room. "So the Righteous Man, he had doubts. He was afraid. But the angel Castiel had faith in him. And when the Righteous Man asked for help standing against the forces of Heaven, that angel chose to fall, because he loved humanity. And the Demon Boy King, he worried that he wasn't strong enough. But then an angel became his friend, and he started to believe that maybe there was something good in him after all, if something as good as an angel could see it."

Amala's expression was rapt with attention.

"And that day, when Sam and Dean went to face Lucifer," Dean went on. "The angel Castiel was right there with them."

 _So have faith, hope, and love  
_ _(Faith, hope, and love)  
_ _Faith, hope, and love_

"How about this one?" Amala called out.

They turned to where she was standing next to a young fir with branches fully filled out. When Sam came to stand next to it, he was just a foot shy of the top.

"I think it looks perfect," the younger Winchester declared.

Dean eyed it critically before nodding in agreement. "Alright, this one it is."

Castiel stepped forward to take hold of the top portion of the tree and hold it while Dean got into position to chop at the base. After he completely hacked through the trunk, Castiel lifted the tree up and gave it a couple good shakes to dislodge any insects that might have made their abode in its branches. Then he carried it a few feet away and laid it down on its side. Dean handed him some twine, and together they bound the branches for easier dragging back to the cabin.

On the return trek, Amala paused to scoop up a handful of snow and threw it at Sam. It splatted against his back. He spun so quickly toward her that she shrieked and took off. Sam chased after her, galumphing through the drifts as Amala nimbly darted in and out of trees.

Dean just shook his head at them, whereas Castiel felt a warm glow of contentment.

 _But there will be days when you lose your faith  
_ _And there will be nights when you give up hope_

"What's wrong with Dad?" Amy asked, twisting in Sam's arms to look back over his shoulder.

"He's fine," Sam assured her, sweeping into her room and closing the door behind them. He then set her on the unmade bed.

She gazed up at him with frightened eyes. "Was that blood?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't want to outright lie to her. "Yeah, he got a little hurt on this last hunt. But your mom and Uncle Dean are gonna fix him up good as new."

Amy continued to stare at him in something like shock. "But…you never get hurt on hunts."

Sam grimaced. Crap. He supposed it was inevitable this would happen eventually. "Actually, we do. It…kinda comes with the job when you're dealing with monsters."

Her bottom lip quivered as she whispered, "Do you get hurt a lot?"

His heart broke at the devastated look on her face, and he took a seat on the bed next to her and pulled her into a side hug. "Yeah. Hunting can be dangerous sometimes. We just always tried to keep you from seeing any of that, so your dad has always healed us before we came home."

Amy pulled back to look up at him with wavering eyes. "Then who heals him?"

 _Disappointment and pain, and you'll flirt with the shame  
_ _So you call me from the end of your rope_

"Do the angels really hate you?" Amy asked in a whisper.

Castiel's face pinched with remorse. "Some of them."

"Because of me."

"No," he said firmly. "Because of me. I've done things in my past I'm not proud of. Heaven suffered a lot because of it."

"Things you're not proud of," Amy murmured. "Like me?"

Castiel's eyes widened, and he shifted to fully face her. " _No_. Amala, don't ever think that."

"Is it true, though?" she pressed. "Am I some kind of- of aberration? A mistake that wasn't supposed to happen?"

He reached out to grip her arms. "You are _not_ a mistake," he said fervently. His eyes crinkled. "Unexpected, was more like it. But also the most precious gift I have ever been given."

 _And I'll give you whatever I have  
_ _But there's only one thing you'll need_

Amy started to back away, but a glint of yellow pupils appeared in the dark, followed by a snarl and a creature leaping out at her. She screamed and tripped, falling backward to hit the ground as a wendigo towered over her. It was hideous—bones jutting out from gray skin, eyes so sunken they looked like shriveled pits in the sockets. It arched an arm up, massive claws set to strike.

And then a flash of tan came out of nowhere with the force of a tornado, and Amy watched her dad slam a palm into the monster's chest, throwing it back several feet to hit the mountain face. It howled upon impact, a few chunks of granite falling to the ground with the beast. The wendigo let out a gnashing growl and struggled to get up.

A blue aura blazed forth as an angel's grace crackled on the air. Massive wings snapped taut with a strike of lightning above that illuminated the tenebrous shadows.

 _And that's love, I'll give you my love  
_ _My love, I'll give you my love_

"Dad, why is that one still there?" Amala asked, pointing to the drawing right next to the one he'd just put up. It had nothing but multi-colored scribbles scratched out haphazardly across the page.

"It's the first one you ever drew," Castiel replied.

"But that was forever ago. And I can draw much better now."

"I still think it's beautiful," Castiel said.

And he did. It was strange sometimes to think that he was several billion years old; he'd watched humanity for so long that nothing should be new for him. Everything had been done before, even a child's small scribbles. And yet everything Amala made, no matter how abstract or unpolished, was infinitely precious to him.

 _Yeah, I brought you into this world  
_ _And I'm sorry it's a little bit crazy_

"Uncle Sam."

He turned to find Amy hugging the wall, her pallor ghostly and shoulders hunched forward. His heart leaped into his throat and he surged forward.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently, coming to crouch down in front of her. Amy's eyes were red and she didn't answer, just held out one arm with the sleeve rolled up. Sam's eyes widened in horror at the black webbing encasing her skin. "Oh my god."

"What?" Dean demanded, finally having noticed something was wrong. He strode over, only to pull up short. "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "Amy, what happened?"

"The- the bracelet," she hiccuped. "I found it in one of the storage rooms, and- I just wanted to try it on."

Sam's gaze latched onto the black band around his niece's wrist. It seemed innocuous enough, but the treacly webbing did look like it was coming from underneath it.

"It hurts," Amy whimpered. "And I can't get it off."

Shit. Sam exchanged a panicked look with his brother. "We need to call Cas."

 _But I tell you there is so much good  
_ _Though the future looks a little bit hazy_

The moon continued its journey, slowly devouring the sun. There was a diamond flash right before the moment of total eclipse, and suddenly the world was plunged into darkness. Sam took off his glasses and gazed upward at the dark circle in the sky ringed in orange from the sun's corona. It looked like the end of the world.

But what Sam had come to appreciate from these escapades was not only that they were rather frequent, but also ephemeral. Darkness may come upon them from time to time, but it didn't last, and they always came out the other side.

Sam bumped shoulders with his niece, reveling in the miracle that they were here at all. Amy just smiled at him, having no idea how her birth had been like an eclipse—filled with darkness and uncertainty.

Until the sun had come out the other side.

 _But see God me and him have a promise  
_ _And he'll give us everything that we need_

"Wait, what about Rapunzel?" Dean asked incredulously. "You love that movie."

"Rapunzel didn't know she was a princess, so she didn't think she had to act like one," Amala replied matter-of-factly.

"And she saved the hero, Flynn Ryder," Charlie put in. "And herself. No damsel in distress there."

"Nope!" Amala chimed.

Dean cast a lost look at Ryn, who shrugged. She just hoped there wasn't any princess paraphernalia in these bags.

But then Charlie was reaching into one of them and pulling out a plastic crown.

"I had to earn my title of Queen of Moondoor," she said, placing the crown on her head. "By leading my army into battle against the Dark Elves and defeating them."

Amala's eyes widened with interest. "Really? Can I lead an army into battle?"

Charlie stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps one day, young grasshopper. But today, your mission is to evade all party preparations. Catching sight of even one decoration before everything's ready could break the spell and turn you into a toad!"

 _So have faith, hope, and love  
_ _(Faith, hope, and love)  
_ _Faith, hope, love, repeat_

Sam already had his skates on and took the first tentative step out onto the ice. "It's been years since I've done this," he remarked, wobbling slightly.

Amy stomped through the snow to reach the smooth edge, and then glided out onto the ice toward him. Sam took her hand, and together they worked to find their balance, which wasn't working out so well with their disproportionate sizes.

Ryn sat on a large rock and pulled her own pair of skates on. Even Castiel was lacing up a set. Dean was holding out.

"Come on, Dean. What are you waiting for?" Ryn needled him.

"For Sam to fall flat on his ass first."

"Don't be such a grinch," said brother retorted.

"Yeah, come on, Uncle Dean!" Amala cajoled.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean plopped down on a fallen log and started pulling his boots off.

Ryn pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the pond, which was almost the size of an actual rink, but with a little tributary branching off into a smaller oval in the back. Charcoal gray trees dusted in white powder stood in thickets under a pewter sky.

A startled yelp followed by uproarious laughter broke the moment, and she arced around one end of the pond to head back toward where Dean was sitting flat on his ass on the ice, and Amala and Sam were laughing. Dean scowled at them as Castiel skated over to help him up.

"I'll race you," Amy said.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. You win already."

Sam hunkered down and pointed to the opposite end of the pond. "Ready? Go!"

 _Faith, hope, and love  
_ _(Faith, hope, and love)  
_ _Faith, hope, love, repeat_

A new beat filled the kitchen as the iPod queued up the next song, one Dean couldn't resist dropping everything for. He brought his hands up to hold an air guitar as he began to mime ripping through the punching riffs. Just as the lyrics were about to start, he whipped a hand toward his niece, pointing at her as he began to lip sync.

"Rising up, back on the street." Dean arced his extended arm out to the side. "Did my time, took my chances!"

Amy snatched the spatula off the counter and held it spade end up as she fake sang into it. "Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet."

"Just a man and his will to survive." Dean switched to air drums for the next bit.

Amy spread her feet apart and shot one hand into the air in a class rock star pose as she raised the spatula-mic. "It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight."

Dean skirted over to her, jamming out on an air guitar again. "Rising up to the challenge of our rival."

Amy started performing some of her karate moves to punctuate the last part of the chorus. "And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night."

"And he's watching us all, with the eye of the tiger."

They rocked out till the end of the song, and then descended into a fit of chuckles and giggling.

 _Faith, hope, and love  
_ _(Faith, hope, and love)  
_ _Faith, hope, love, repeat_

A splash of salt water caught him in the face, even though they were away from the tide, and Dean jerked in surprise as his brother, the creature from the black lagoon, surged up from under the water and started pelting them with a splash attack. Amy squealed and slapped water back at him, and Dean took the opportunity to get around Sam and dunk his head under the water. If he thought his hair looked bad before…

By the time they finally decided to swim back, Cas had been going to town building a sandcastle. Except, sandcastle wasn't the right word for it.

"Is that the Taj Mahal?" Sam sputtered.

"A model scale of it, yes," Cas replied, as though it were no big feat.

Ryn had a fist pressed to her mouth, but it wasn't hiding her grin.

"Wow!" Amy exclaimed. "I have to go get my camera!" She ran up the beach toward the house.

"That's impressive, man," Dean said. Maybe tomorrow he'd challenge Cas to a competition. After all, Dean's whittling skills had gotten pretty good, and he bet he could apply them to sandcastles.

Later that night, they built a bonfire next to the Taj Mahal and settled in to look at the constellations. Dean never could memorize them, and so it was always Amy and Cas and Ryn pointing them out for him again.

"Did you see the shooting star?" Amy said excitedly.

"I did," Sam replied.

"We should make a wish."

Dean's eyes met Cas's, and they shared a knowing smile. There was no need to wish for what you already had.


End file.
